Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Nothing about that night felt real, but everything about it felt right.
By three in the morning, we returned to the motel, and Isaac carried me inside because I was so tired and more intoxicated than he planned on letting me get.
“Let’s have sex,” I mumbled with a huge smile when he set me on my bed.
“You need to sleep.” He removed my boots and my bracelets.
“Sleep is overrated,” I said, unbuttoning my dress, even though my fingers and everything else felt a little too numb to be adept or nimble.
“I’m not having sex with you when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” I giggled. “I’m a little drunk. But I give you my consent.”
He shook his head, pulling down the bedspread.
I shrugged off my dress, and he set it on the bags with my new clothes. By the time he faced me again, I had taken off my bra and was tossing my underwear onto the floor between the two beds.
“Jesus, Sarah, what are you doing?” He scratched his jaw and shook his head.
“I’m not a virgin.”
“I’m aware, but we’re still not doing this.” Isaac gestured for me to lie back, and I did.
But when he tried to pull the covers over my naked body, I kicked them away.
He reared back so I didn’t kick him. “Stop.”
Again, I kicked my legs, so he grabbed my ankles. Everything was warm and soft. My vision was a little blurry; the air conditioner sounded more muffled. But his touch was sharp, and I liked it.
I dragged my teeth along my lower lip as the tense indecision in his face intensified.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered, keeping a firm grip on my ankles.
Losing my inhibitions felt liberating like the dream day we were having would never end.
I slid my hand along my inner thigh, and Isaac’s gaze followed it while mine remained affixed to his face and his tongue making a lazy swipe along his lips before he swallowed hard.
“Perv,” I murmured with a smirk.
His attention flitted to my face for a moment while the corner of his mouth quirked into the hint of a smile.
I enjoyed touching myself, even if, according to my parents, it disappointed Jesus. I liked brushing my hair and rubbing lotion on my legs too. What was the big deal?
Isaac released one ankle at a time and crawled up the bed, settling on his stomach between my spread legs. He kissed my fingers as I slid them between my legs. His tongue stroked my flesh, and he sucked one of my fingers into his mouth and hummed.
My other hand rested on his head, and I spread my legs a little wider. The feeling left me speechless and breathless, so I knew it had to be a sin. I bargained with myself. If I could spend the next three days letting Isaac do that to me as much as possible, I would spend the rest of the summer on my knees, clutching a Bible, begging for forgiveness.
Isaac was so, so good at making me orgasm (better than me), so I removed my hand and clawed the bedsheet beneath me. What he did to me after our shopping trip was great, but this was mind-blowing.
My knees collapsed inward. “Isaac …” I couldn’t take it. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or just my first time having oral sex, but I needed him to stop because it was almost too sensitive, but when he started to pull back, I realized I didn’t want that either.
“N-not yet … just …” I curled my fingers and scratched at his head to keep him there as unrelenting waves of pleasure spread in all directions.
This is Heaven.
He chuckled before kissing my inner thigh. “Sleep, now. Okay?”
I murmured a lazy “Okay,” and rolled to my side, curling up in a ball as he pulled the sheet over my body. I couldn’t wait to tell Heather.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LOVERBOY, “ALMOST PARADISE”
I peeled open my eyes and glanced at the clock: 11:08 a.m.
“Isaac?” I said in a weak voice.
The pillows and sheets of the other bed were tangled. He slept by himself. I felt a pang of disappointment. When I made it to my feet and winced from my headache, I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I slipped on the white T-shirt poking out from his duffle bag and peeked through the curtain.
Isaac was in his jeans and boots, no shirt, staring at the sky and smoking a cigarette. I opened the door, and he glanced over his shoulder, giving me a slow inspection.
“Morning,” he said.
“Thought you quit.”
He shrugged. “I did.” He sucked on the cancer stick one last time before tossing it onto the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. “There.” He smiled. “I’m quitting again.”
I frowned.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” I stepped aside to let him back into the room.