Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
The woman hasn’t even been away from her rapist and kidnapper for eight hours, and I’m over here, practically sexually assaulting her.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I say, taking another step back. “I shouldn’t have done that. I … I don’t always think,” I tell her. “My brain just kind of runs with shit, and … fuck, you were raped and—”
“Stop,” she says, walking over to me and placing her delicate hand on my mouth. “What he did was shitty, and it sucked. He hurt me and violated me, and his words were just as bad. But this … what you just did, it reminded me that I’m more than just a fat chick who was taken advantage of.”
Tears prick her eyes, and her lips curve into a beautiful, watery smile. “I’m still young, and maybe I’m not perfect, but one day, when the right guy comes along, he won’t be put off by my imperfections. I mean, if you, Matteo Antonov—world’s biggest bachelor and playboy, who has beautiful women hanging on his arm at every event—can find me attractive, then I think there’s hope for me yet.”
She shrugs and reaches down to grab her pants, but I extend my hand and stop her, not finished with this conversation.
“Little Russo,” I say with a smirk, “did you google me?”
Her eyes go as wide as saucers, and I have my answer.
“You totally fucking googled me.”
“I … I was just …” She releases a loud groan. “Yes, okay? I saw you at the funeral, and you were looking good.”
I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“So, I googled you, and while you can name all the positives of my fat, there isn’t a single picture of you with anyone near my size.” She shrugs and puts her pants on.
“That’s because the women in our circle don’t eat,” I grumble. “But trust me, I’m an equal opportunist, and I would gladly fuck the hell out of a woman your size.”
“Okay, thanks.” She laughs. “Now, can we get back to our show and pretend this never happened?”
“Sure,” I tell her, even though there’s nothing that will stop me from remembering the way she looked with her legs wrapped around my head and her pussy right in my face.
That image is ingrained in my brain and will be the reason I jack off tonight in the shower and probably for the next several nights as well.
14
Daniella
My pussy was in his face.
And not just in his face.
It was in his face. So close that I could feel his warm breath hitting me through the cotton material of my panties.
I know he was only trying to prove a point, but my lady parts couldn’t help but get excited at the thought of a man bringing me to an orgasm. And now, as we sit on the couch, watching whatever is on, I can feel the dampness between my legs. I want to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, but I’m afraid it will be obvious.
I’ve only been with a few men—two in college and the asshole I married—but sex with them wasn’t anything like how I’d imagined it would be, based on the romance books I’d read and the porn I’d watched.
Don’t get me wrong. I know both of those are fictional, but I figured they were based on reality. Only in real life, the men I was with were selfish and only cared about getting themselves off. The sex was okay, but I didn’t get off the way they did in books and videos. So, I looked it up and found out that seventy percent of women couldn’t orgasm from penetration—which is kind of crazy, considering every romance book I’d ever read and every porno I’d ever watched had the woman screaming out in pleasure every time the guy entered her.
But that has nothing to do with the fact that the guys always wanted me to give them head, yet they never once made me come orally.
Yet Matteo was right there, with his face in my pussy, and I have to wonder if maybe he’s the kind of guy who would be willing to go down on me and pleasure me.
“Dani,” Matteo breathes, shaking me from my thoughts.
Usually, he calls me Little Russo, sometimes Daniella, but never Dani …
“Yeah?”
“Can you please stop fucking doing that?”
“What?” I glance at him in confusion.
“Clenching your fucking thighs together and rubbing against the cushion like you’re a bitch in heat.”
My eyes go wide. I wasn’t …
I squirm, and he groans, and I flinch.
Shit, I was totally clenching and rubbing. But it’s not my fault! The man was feeling me up and then had my pussy in his face. What the hell did he think was going to happen?
Just because he’s immune to my pussy …
“I am not immune to your fucking pussy!” he barks. “You see this?” He reaches down and wraps his fingers around his shaft through the material of his jeans.