Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
What if it works out, though?
What if I take a chance on me and on Duke and on our ability to say fuck what everyone else thinks so we can live life on our terms?
Live a life different from everything we’ve known. Everything we’ve seen.
Soaping up a washcloth, I run it over my chest. A bolt of heat moves from my nipple to my clit. I think of Duke. How perfectly his ass filled out his Wranglers. The way his shirt drew taut over his shoulder blades and back as he grabbed his hat from the rack by the kitchen door and dropped it on his head before going back to work after lunch.
I run the washcloth over my nipples again, the nubby fabric catching on their overly sensitive peaks. My boobs are sore, but it feels kinda good to touch them this way.
That heat spreads between my legs, making my clit throb. Closing my eyes, I revel in the fact that I feel like myself again and not some perpetually sick, chronically confused mess.
I feel sexy. At home in my body, even though it feels different.
I miss the feel of Duke’s hands on me. My God, can that man fuck. Best sex of my life, no question. And that big, beautiful dick of his—
Next thing I know, I’m tossing the washcloth aside and grabbing the showerhead off its holder. When was the last time I had an orgasm? I don’t remember. Before I found out I was pregnant, I was trying not to masturbate, because every time I did, I ended up thinking about Duke. That was a problem then.
Is it still a problem now?
I tuck the showerhead between my legs. The multiple streams of water hit my center all at once, sending a shock wave through me that has me gasping for air. My cunt spasms, once, and I bite my lip.
How I’m this turned on this quickly, I don’t know.
That’s a lie. I totally know why I’m about to come in two seconds. It’s that fucking cowboy I’m living with. Him and his smiles and his shoulders and those lips.
I thumb my nipple, imagining him taking it in his mouth. The water hits my clit, my heart rate spiking. I roll my hips, seeking more, the intensity of how hot the water is and how badly I want to come almost overwhelming.
This feels so damn good.
Spreading my legs a little wider, I notice they start to shake. Pressure grows in my center. I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
I want him.
I want you, Duke, so bad it’s killing me.
I adjust the showerhead so that it’s aimed directly at my clit now. My hips buck. I roll my thumb over one nipple, then the other, and imagine the pressure between my legs is Duke pushing inside me.
I’ll make room, sweetheart. Let me in.
“God, Duke, I want to let you in,” I breathe. “I want that more than anything, but I—”
Pleasure—pain—it rips through me in a way it never, ever has before. This orgasm has teeth, and it takes over the entirety of my body. My toes curl. My calves flex. My thighs shake and my hips roll, and my tits feel hard and overly large in my hands.
I scream. “Oh my God!”
What—
How—I read about this, I think, orgasms being better when you’re pregnant—
A loud bang has me opening my eyes, my heart leaping to my throat as I let out another scream.
Duke is standing in the doorway. He’s still wearing his cowboy hat, and even through the slightly fogged-up glass, I can see the sweat that stains his shirt, causing it to cling to his chest and stomach.
That chest is heaving, like he just dominated the hundred-meter dash. Eyes wide. Mouth open.
I stand there and shake, facing him, the showerhead poised between my legs as my cunt’s spasms slowly begin to die down. I have the other hand on my breast.
Duke can see everything.
Oh my God, he can see everything.
And still I don’t move as his eyes rake down my body, stopping to linger on my tits. I blush violently, my cheeks and neck and chest prickling.
I should have some shame here. I do, clearly. But I also…don’t?
I like his eyes on me.
He puts a hand on his chest. “What the hell was that? You okay?” His voice echoes in the room.
“I—” Have no words, because you just walked in on me coming harder than I ever have in my life while thinking about you. “I’m fine.”
His eyes dip to the showerhead. I lift it, settling it back in its cradle. The gentle patter and slap of the water on the tiled floor fills the silence.
“Why’d you scream, then?”
I put my face in my hands. “Um.”
“Almost sounded like you were in pain.”
“I wasn’t. I just—I felt good. Well, not sick, so I—I decided to—stress relief, and I think because I’m pregnant—”