Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I slide my hand up her thigh, just beneath the hem of my shirt. “Fourteen demerits gone,” I tell her, rewarding her confession. “Back to five. But now I want to hear you moan when I tell you exactly what I’m going to do to that tight little pussy of yours.”
Her breathing quickens, chest rising and falling against mine.
“I’m going to spread those pretty thighs and bury my cock so deep inside you that you’ll feel me for days,” I continue, voice low enough that only she can hear. “Every time you sit down, you’ll remember how I stretched you open.”
She shivers against me, eyes widening at my language. Good. She should be shocked.
I brush my thumb over her nipple again, then twist it just hard enough to make her gasp.
“These perfect tits,” I murmur, cupping one in my palm. “I want to mark them. Leave bruises where only I can see them. Would you like that?”
She doesn’t answer, but her pulse jumps visibly at her throat.
“Answer me,” I demand, pinching her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp.
“Yes,” she whispers, the admission barely audible over the music.
I slide my other hand between her legs, finding her already wet through the thin fabric of her underwear. “You’re soaked,” I observe clinically. “All this talk about fucking you has your pussy dripping.”
She tries to look away, but I catch her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“Don’t hide from me,” I tell her. “I want to see your face when I make you come. When I fill you up and ruin you for anyone else.”
A small moan escapes her, and I feel her hips shift subtly against my hand, seeking more pressure.
“That’s it,” I encourage, rubbing slow circles over her clit through the fabric. “Show me how much you want it.”
Across the pool, I spot Rico watching us, his expression a mixture of interest and calculation. He raises his glass in a mocking toast. I ignore him, focusing instead on the woman in my lap, on the way her thighs tense as I increase the pressure of my touch.
“Everyone’s watching you,” I tell her, nodding toward the men whose attention has been drawn by her quiet sounds of pleasure. “They all want what I have. They want to bend you over and fuck you until you scream.”
Her eyes dart nervously to the onlookers before returning to me.
“But they can’t have you,” I continue, my voice hardening. “You’re mine. At least for now.”
The possessiveness in my tone surprises even me. I didn’t plan to say that, but the words feel right on my tongue, natural in a way that should concern me.
I need to regain control of this situation—of myself. This isn’t going according to plan. She’s affecting me more than I anticipated, making me say things I don’t mean, feel things I shouldn’t feel.
I have two options. Take her right here, in front of everyone, establishing my dominance and getting this desperate need out of my system. Or bring her back to the pool house, where I can fuck her properly without an audience.
Public sex would certainly send a message to Rico. It would show him I’m still the same cold bastard I’ve always been, unmoved by sentiment or attachment. It would prove to myself that this woman means nothing—just another body to use and discard.
But the pool house offers privacy. Control. The ability to take my time breaking her apart and putting her back together the way I want. No distractions, no performance for others. Just her beneath me, surrendering completely.
The decision is tactical. Stay here and keep an eye on Rico while satisfying this inconvenient desire, or retreat temporarily to handle it in private.
I weigh the variables. The risks. The rewards.
Emmaleen’s eyes dart around, nervous energy humming through her body where it connects with mine. The calculation happening behind those pale green eyes is almost visible—weighing options, measuring consequences. She’s thinking about walking back to the pool house with me, all those eyes tracking our departure, everyone knowing exactly what we’re about to do.
Too many variables. Too much exposure.
The decision forms like ice crystallizing in my mind. Clear. Sharp. Final.
“Stay exactly where you are,” I murmur against her ear, my voice casual enough that anyone watching would think I’m whispering sweet nothings. “Don’t move.”
Confusion flickers across her face as I shift beneath her, maintaining the appearance of a man simply adjusting his position. With practiced efficiency, I unfasten my swim trunks, the sound of the Velcro masked by the pounding music.
“Lift up,” I command, my tone leaving no room for hesitation. “Just an inch.”
She complies immediately, her body rising slightly off my lap. I push the thin fabric of her underwear aside, positioning myself beneath her.
“Now sit down,” I tell her, one hand on her hip guiding her movements. “Slowly.”