Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
I feel a pulse between my legs.
I’m wet.
“I also”—he keeps rocking into me and I keep rocking back—“don’t stick my dick in a liar.”
“W-what?” I ask, even though what I want to do is throw my head back and moan.
“You lied to me, didn’t you?”
I know I should be more alarmed right now, and I am. But for the life of me, I can’t stop doing what I’m doing. I can’t stop rocking back and forth, side to side as I leak and leak and freaking leak like a faucet.
“You…” I swallow, pulling at his hair, dragging my heels up and down the backs of his thighs. “You m-mean about the vegetarian thing?”
His eyes flash. “Is there anything else you’re lyin’ to me about?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You sure?”
I close my eyes to shut out his probing gaze and pull his hair harder. “I was just… I was just trying to protect myself.”
I don’t know if what I said made sense or not, but he hums, his chest buzzing. “Yeah, and trust me, no one regrets it more than me.”
“Regrets what?”
“That you had to lie to protect yourself and now you’re a Turner.”
“Okay,” I say uselessly, without thinking about it.
“Meaning you’re off-limits,” he growls, his tone suddenly laced with anger. “Meaning all I could do last night when I came back from that deadass strip club, all angry and jacked up, was jerk off to your sleepin’ body like I was still back in prison, reading and rereading your letters, trying, goddamn fucking tryin’, to hear your voice in my head.”
If anything could pierce through the fog my mind seems to be under and make me realize what’s happening, it would be this. This crazy, crazy thing he’s said. Even so, I can’t seem to let go of him, and I’m tightening my limbs around his body. I breathe out, “You what?”
He clenches his jaw, his eyes glittering with a furious light. “All I could do was kneel between your soft silky thighs and fuck my fist like I’ve been doing for the past six months.”
“Six…”
“The only difference was last night I had somewhere to dump all my cum, instead of letting it run through my fingers.”
“Where?”
“On you.”
“Me?”
“Your juicy thighs.”
My juicy thighs flex around him. “You came on my…”
“And your white little panties.”
I feel them now, all drenched and sticky, and it reminds me of something. I pull at his hair and ask, “Is that why… my p-panties were all sticky this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
There was a hint of regret in my tone. Because I think… I think I would’ve liked to be awake for that. To watch him come.
“Was it a lot?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Drenched your panties and painted your thighs,” he whispers. “What do you think?”
“You—”
“And if instead of on you, I’d come in you, you’d be drippin’ for days.”
I fist his hair, twisting my hips under him. “I think we s-should stop.”
“You’d be swollen and full and hurting for days. And I’d be walkin’ around hard as fuck knowin’ you felt me sliding down those juicy thighs of yours that I wanna bite every time I get a flash of them through your dress. So yeah, it was a fuck of a lot.”
I arch and moan and whisper, “I really think—”
“So as much as I liked paintin’ you with my cum and makin’ your body my canvas, I’m not a delicate fuckin’ artist. I’m a hardened cowboy with a record and I wanna dump my load in a juicy warm cunt.” I flinch and whimper, but he keeps going. “Apparently, though, that’s not possible. Because you’re a Turner. So instead of givin’ you what you’re askin’ for, I’m gonna suck your little college girl snatch through those drenched panties of yours and we’ll see if that doesn’t keep you in your place and finally get you to behave. A word of warning though”—he pauses to let that take effect—“I know I said I’d take my time with you. Go slow and savor. But that was just somethin’ I said to not scare you. In all honesty though, I like it hard and fast and that goes for everything including eating pussy.”
Before I can even attempt to respond, he gets up.
He pushes his large body off me and comes up to his knees. My fingers mourn his loss and in his absence grab the dead leaves on the ground. I wonder if this is what he looked like last night, kneeling between my thighs. All big and hard, his chest vibrating, his stomach hollowing out. Without taking his eyes off me, he goes for his T-shirt. He fists it with the hand on his uninjured side and again, before I can attempt to put things together, takes it off.
My eyes go wide and I’m all ready to take him in. But he doesn’t let me. All I am able to do is catch a glimpse of all the blood on his shoulder before in a flash, he’s over me again. But this time, his one hand is by my head and his other at my throat.