Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“Get dressed, little mate. We’re going to town.”
“Town?”
“I hadn’t shifted in years, so the pantry is practically empty. Only one can of fruit left. And some canned fish. I don’t like canned fish.”
He taps my bottom and gets out of the bed.
“I need a shower. I have all your…” I make a face. “All over me.”
He smiles. “Just down around inside your thighs. I’d like it all over you, though.” He looks at me thoughtfully and then turns and puts his knee on the bed, ready to crawl back to me.
“No! Bad.” I smack his hand and he startles. “Back up. I’m sore. You can’t do me again.”
He smiles wide. He has a beautiful smile.
I smile back, my sternness melting away. My belly flipflops.
Gah. No. I scoot to the bottom of the bed to get out of it and head toward the bathroom but then his large hands are on my hips and he brings my back against his front. His mouth touches down on that mark on my neck. My head rolls to the right to give him better access.
God, his mouth on that spot…
“Just a little,” he says, spinning me around to face him. “I’ll be very sweet to your princess parts.”
Oh, swoon.
His green eyes flare with a glow, then I’m turned, hiked up, and put against the wall in the small hallway between the bedroom and bathroom. He pushes his cock inside me again, making my mouth drop open. His eyes sparkle. And then his thumb caresses the spot on my neck and my eyes roll as his lips touch mine.
He rocks ever-so-gently against me, pitching me straight into a pleasure spiral, making a masculine purr sound in his chest. My forehead lands on his shoulder. My eyes drift shut while I inhale the aroma of his skin and revel in sensation. That noise he’s making, it makes me… happy. He smells so good.
14
Tyson
“Either we go to town to get the supplies or we can fuck,” I tell her. “Decide.”
I’m losing patience because we fucked over an hour ago and I can’t just stand here waiting all day. I’ve already waited while she took a shower and fiddled with painting her beautiful face with colors.
I have boots on my feet and truck keys in my hand, but yet she’s sitting there on the rug near the wood stove, frantically flipping through her belongings that are spilled on the floor in front of her.
There’s a lot of stuff. Face paint supplies. Papers. Electrical cords.
“They must be in the car,” she says under her breath. And then she looks at me with her eyes narrowed. “You dumped a bunch of my shit out in the car to figure out my name and my pills and phone must’ve fallen out.”
“What?”
She’s annoyed with me.
“My phone and pills. I need my pills, especially!” She’s a bit hysterical and waving her hands while she talks.
“Are you ill?” I kneel in front of her. “We’ll stop at the car and get them before we go to town. What are they for? Are you hurt?”
She doesn’t look ill. Her eyes are clear. Her skin is bright. I put my lips to her forehead. Her temperature isn’t too hot or too cool.
The idea she might be ill? It just sickens me. I search her face for answers, my heart racing, my stomach twisting.
I have no experience with pills. Uncle took some before he died, calling them killers of pain. They didn’t work very well for him and now he’s dead. I’ve never put pills in my mouth in my life and don’t think I want to if they are useless like that.
“My – uh… I just need them. Let’s go.” She gets into a squat and stuffs her things into the purse. She then reaches for the bag that contains her clothes from the bedroom. Her face is bright red. Not from illness though, something else. She’s in a panic. She sidesteps me and heads to the door.
Why won’t she tell me what the pills are for?
I take her bag from her and drop it. “We’ll look for them. You don’t need all those clothes for a trip to town for food.” I grab for her hand and her eyes widen in what looks like terror. “But you need a coat,” I add.
She’s chewing her lip and staring at me with wide eyes and red cheeks. I frown as I assess her face and then she fiddles with the bag.
“I left my jacket at the cabin of ill-repute. I’ll be fine.” She squats and grabs the strap of her large bag and rises, looping it over her shoulder.
Cabin of what?
“Why would you need that for a trip to town?” I take it from her.
Her face goes redder and she doesn’t answer.
I lean in. “Ivy. Answer please.”
“I need to go.”