Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“Can I at least have my panties back?” I stand up to help her from her perch on my desk, another thing we’ll be adding to the list of where I’m going to fuck her.
“Nope, that’s your punishment.” I press my lips to hers. She licks at my lips that are coated with her wetness. The groan she gives me is laced with desire.
“That makes two pairs you’ve confiscated from me. Pretty soon, I’ll just leave them at home. How’s that for punishment?” She ducks out of my arms and makes her way to the door.
“Temptress, that’s what you are, Tessa. You leave your panties at home, where I can’t take them off you, you’ll feel my hand on your bare pussy, and not in a way that will get you off.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. See you later. Make sure you send me a video of what you do with my panties.” Son of a bitch, this is going to backfire on me. Tessa will be punishing me instead of the other way around.
“You coming to my place after work? I’ll give you more than a video. I’ll give you the experience you’ve been wanting. You fucking your fingers while I jack my cock, painting your pretty pussy with my cum.” She stops walking, and that’s when I see it: she’ll be coming to my place tonight.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do one better. Stop at my place, grab a change of clothes, and spend the night.” She winks, opens the door, and walks out, leaving me with the view of her backside.
12
TESSA
The rest of the week flew by. If we weren’t at King’s house, we were at the office, eating dinner together, learning more about one another. And while, sure, we made each other orgasm with our hands or mouths, there was nothing else, and I was starting to get antsy. I’m not a virgin by any means, having lost that long before my attachment to Kingston came about the moment I turned eighteen. Let’s just say junior year of high school was eye opening, and not in the best of ways. You learn things not only about yourself but about others. Sometimes it’s for the good, and sometimes it’s for the bad. The only two experiences I had were subpar at best. Honestly, the only time I got off before my time now with Kingston was by my own hand, that’s how bad my other experiences were.
“Hey, Mom.” I walk into the house to give her a heads-up that I won’t be around this weekend seeing as how King invited me to stay with him.
“Hey, sweet girl. You just missed your father.” I move towards her. Mom wraps her arms around me in a hug. Even though I may not have been home much this week, that didn’t stop me from calling her on my lunch break or on the way to King’s after work. It’s funny how much your relationship changes with your parents once you’re older—the butting of heads stop, you yearn to talk to them more even if it’s to bitch about something mundane like how terrible the coffee is in the office or that you’re out of your favorite candies. Which, imagine my surprise when I walked into my place and there, sitting on the counter, was the candy I coveted.
“Where’s he off to this evening without his leading lady?” Our hug ends. Dad doesn’t usually go out in the evenings unless it’s for something related to football. Since it’s the height of football season, it could be that, except it’s Friday, not Sunday.
“He’s out golfing with the guys, a trip they had in the works for months. I’ll be leaving tomorrow to take my women’s retreat. I love your father, but there’s something to be said about having a weekend away from one another. We both need it.” Well, I guess that makes this easier than expected.
“Good, I’m glad you guys are still going out and doing your own thing. I was worried I’d be cramping your style even while living in a different building.”
“I love you, and I’m going to tell you this now. The reason we put you in the apartment above the garage is so you could come and go as you please. Your father may moan and groan, but that’s just all talk. We know you’re a mature young lady who has a life to live. We did our fair share of that before you were born.” She goes to the stove, stirring something in a pot. Knowing Mom, she’s making soup and a grilled cheese. Dad is not a soup eater; he’ll eat it but grumble, saying it’s not meat and potatoes, but soup is Mom’s favorite, so I’m sure she’s luxuriating in the fact that she can have what she wants in peace.