Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
I feel him jerking my tampon out before he slides his dick into my bleeding pussy. And oh my God, I come just from that. Just from that one stroke. The fist in my tummy that was tightening and tightening when I was sucking his cock unfurls and I gush, moaning, jerking, writhing. And holy God, he uses that as lube, my orgasm and my blood to then fuck me in the ass.
And I’m relaxed enough that I let him do it. I’m relaxed enough that I start to enjoy it and before long, I think he’s the one who’s should’ve put a gag in his mouth because he’s loud. He’s groaning and moaning and panting as he fucks me in the ass like he’s going to die. Like it feels so good, nothing can compare.
I know nothing can because even though this may look like dirty, animalistic fucking, with me on my hands and knees, my dress flipped up and him behind me, banging into my body with vicious thrusts as a party rages on somewhere in the distance. But it’s more than that. It’s love making. It’s two people being as close to each other as they can be. It’s the coming together of two hearts and two souls.
With that thought, I come once again and as always, he follows me over the edge and climaxes with me.
Chapter Thirty-One
With his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, he stands at the floor to ceiling window of my hotel room, looking over the city skyline. He has a light gray t-shirt on and his freshly showered hair’s dripping water on it, making the neck all damp. I don’t think he knows I’m watching him where I stand at the bathroom door, having taken a shower myself.
Just for the record, we didn’t take a shower together. After what happened at the maze, he carried me out in his arms while I almost dozed off against his hot, cozy chest. He drove me back to the hotel and escorted me back to my room before leaving me without a word. Although he did kiss me on the forehead, all light and soft, tender that made me weep in the shower.
I wanted to ask him where he was going and when he’d be back, but I didn’t. I was too afraid. While the big realization that I had at the party felt like a joyous moment, like all my dreams coming true, even the ones I didn’t dare think about, I’m thinking differently now. My adrenaline rush is gone, and I’m left shaking in its wake. It’s not going to be easy, making him see the truth but I have to try. I have to do more than try. I have to convince him. And the fact that he’s back gives me hope. At least, he’s not disappearing on me like he did after the first time we had sex. Progress.
“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, a little bit shy.
He stiffens at it, his shoulders going taut. I notice his jaw clenching in his profile and my heart starts to slam really hard in my chest. Yes, he may be here but that doesn’t mean he’s here to readily accept whatever I have to say. Still, I hold on to that little piece of hope.
He takes his time turning around, as if he doesn’t want to and when he does, my little hope only gets…littler. It’s nothing on his face per se. As in, he isn’t angry or something similar. He isn’t annoyed or irritated or any number of things. It’s the fact that he isn’t anything. He’s completely and absolutely expressionless and I don’t think it has happened before. Even when his expressions are a mystery to me, I still know something is happening beneath the surface. In this moment though, it seems like there is nothing. He’s empty. Hollow. He’s dead.
My heart starts to slam really, really hard in my chest. As if I’m compensating for his lack of heartbeats. And I take a step toward him. “Shepard—”
And for the first time ever, ever, he takes a step back. “It’s over.”
I didn’t expect him to say that but still, I’m not surprised. And I don’t know what scares me more, my lack of surprise because I somehow knew this was going to happen and I was still holding onto false hope or him saying these strange words that I never thought he would. Not after everything. Not after I know this is not him at all.
“Why?” I ask, taking another step toward him.
He drops his stare to notice my movement before lifting his eyes. “Because you’re in too deep.”
I raise my eyebrows and keep walking toward him. “I’m in too deep?”
His chest finally moves with a breath, and I see irritation flickering through his blank features. Good. I want him irritated. I want him angry. I want him alive and feeling and running on emotions, not the stone statue that he had somehow turned into.