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)
Before I let go of my tits and grab his calf and start humping his boot. I start rubbing my pussy on it. I look down and it has to be the most obscene thing I’ve ever seen. The most arousing thing I’ve ever seen. My pussy spreads open on the leather, leaving trails of my juice, making it glisten. Polishing his boot almost.
God, why does it feel so shameful and yet so arousing at the same time? I want to stop but I also never ever want to stop. I want to tell him that I hate this but I also love it. I love it so, so much that my hips keep moving and jerking and chasing something bigger than a climax. Or at least that’s what it feels like as I writhe and writhe and keep writhing, digging my nails in his calf, moaning and whimpering like some kind of an animal in heat. A bitch in heat for him.
And it only gets worse, when he comes closer. I hear the clatter of his phone falling to the ground before I feel his hand in my hair, fisting the strands. He tugs my head back, rests his forehead with mine and commands, “Say it. Say, thank you for letting me ride your boot, Shepard.”
“Thank you…” I pant, my eyes closed, my hands on his wrists now as I keep going, “for letting me ride your boot, Shepard.”
“’Thank you for making me feel so good.’”
“Thank you for making me feel so good,” I say, moaning, so close, so very close to coming. But something is missing. I want something from him. Something more. Something like a kiss. And I go to say that. I go to ask him for it, for him to finish what we started all those months ago. In that parking lot before his life turned upside down.
I mean, it makes sense, right? His life went awry back then. He lost his championship. He lost the girl he loves. The whole world started to turn against him. But tonight, we claim everything back. Or at least, start to. Tonight is the beginning of fixing everything. The beginning of us. So we should kiss, shouldn’t we?
But before I can say anything, he commands, “Come, now. Come on my boot. Come like the whore you are. My good little whore.”
And then I have no choice but to do that. I have no choice but to come. I always thought it was made up. That someone can command your body to do things at their will. But it’s not. It’s real. As real as someone commanding your heart. If someone can make your heart to beat faster, your blood to pump faster, why can’t they command your body too?
Why can’t he when he commands everything else in my life? When he’s the man I love.
The thought flashes through my head in an instant, while I’m still coming on his boot, while I’m still holding on to his wrists, our foreheads stuck together, breathing each other’s air. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so at peace.
“Thank you,” I whisper, without him prompting me. “Thank you for making me come.”
His grip on me tightens as I’m coming down from my climax, and he whispers, “Maybe you should add a little something to that, to your thank you. Maybe you should say: You didn’t have to do that, Shepard, because I’m a sneaky fucking bitch who’s been lying to you for over a year. But that’s not all I am. I’m also so fucking stupid for leaving my phone where anyone could get their hands on it and find out this secret that I’ve been trying to hide for so long.” Then, pressing his fingers into my face even harder, he continues, “And you know what I’d say to that, Jupiter, I’d say, you don’t need to thank me for anything. Because what kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t help out my whore of a stepsister?”
It takes me a moment to understand what he means. And it would probably be longer than a moment, if he hadn’t leaned back and looked into my eyes with such anger and hatred and undiluted fury that it almost chokes me to death.
Or maybe it’s his hand that’s gone back to my throat and he presses and presses it into my windpipe as he says, a vein pulsing in his temple, “If you come anywhere near me, near my family, my sister and her family, I’ll fucking ruin your life, do you understand?”
With that he pushes me away, and he does it so hard that I fall on my side and watch him leave the room as he leaves me there, all bruised and battered. Wrecked.
Part II
Chapter Fourteen
He came prepared.
Even after three weeks, that’s the only thing I can think about. The fact that he had leather shoes on. He never wears shoes like that, highly polished with a toecap. He usually has sneakers on if he’s running or working out, and other times he has something resembling big biker boots with thick laces. I always thought I could fit both my feet in one of his shoes. I always thought I loved his shoes.