Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Keep going,” she moans. “Don’t pull out.”
“Fuck, Avery. Don’t say shit like that.”
“Don’t pull out,” she repeats. “I’m back on my birth control. Come inside me.”
The combination of her words and her pussy wrapped around me like a vise is almost too much. I grit my teeth. “Avery.”
“Please, Henry,” she pleads through panting breaths. “I want it.”
There’s no logic in her words. But when it comes to her, there’s clearly no logic for me at all. Whatever she wants, I want to give it to her.
She’s an all-consuming force that I can’t refuse, and she’s the one and only woman on the planet I’d do anything for.
I drive my cock inside her, over and over, until I feel her pussy clenching around me in rhythmic waves and hear pleasure-filled moans escape her lungs.
And then, I come. Deep inside her. And it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my fucking life.
There’s no going back from this. There’s no going back from her.
January 22nd
Avery
Wednesdays are the Achilles’ heel of the workweek, but I can’t deny that spending every night at Henry’s place has turned the usual monotony on its head. Though, it hasn’t been easy keeping nosy, borderline-stalker June out of the loop.
The only night I was actually honest with her about my whereabouts was when Henry and I drove to Fort Lauderdale for Mario’s memorial service.
It was emotional, meeting his two sisters and his two brothers-in-law and his nieces and nephews, but I’m glad we went. If anything, it’s given me a small piece of closure on the tragedy.
When the sounds of busy office chatter filter into my ears, I realize I’m just sitting here at my desk. My computer screen stares back at me with its uninspiring spreadsheet—some stupid thing June sent to me to look over—on my desk at my dad’s company, and I scan the area for something, anything, more interesting than this.
Goodness. This shit is bor-ing.
Frankly, I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to be looking at, and after spending the past few nights staying up way too late having hot sex with Henry, I’m too tired to care even as much as I normally do, and it’s safe to say that’s not much.
A yawn escapes my throat, and I tap my pen against the edge of my desk in a sad attempt to keep myself awake, taking a swig from my second cup of Starbucks this morning.
The office hums with the usual background noise—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, and distant murmurs of conversation—but it’s not enough to distract me from the monotony. There’s no drama, no secret flings, no fights or anything.
Gah, I miss the era of Bethany the Bitch Williams and that snake Seth. Sure, it was a little miserable for Beau, being around his ex-best friend and ex-girlfriend all the time, but things were exciting.
Last I heard, Bethany and Seth’s dad Chris were traveling the world together or some shit, and Seth had gone to Hollywood to fake an acting career. Evidently, they took the fun with them, because now all people do here is work.
My phone buzzes on my desk, and I eagerly snatch it up, hoping for a reprieve from the dullness. It’s a text from Ethel, one of my old lady friends from The Pines.
Ethel: Avery, darling, are you coming by today to help our little fashion disaster Darla? She’s sweet as pie, but I simply cannot witness her spandex sweatpants for another day. My eyes are burning at just the thought of it.
A smile tugs at my lips as I read her message. Ethel’s always dramatic, which is what makes her one of my favorite people. I can easily clear out today’s schedule for a trip to The Pines. Lord knows I’m more likely to stay awake there than here in this god-awful cubicle.
Before I can type out a reply, my phone buzzes in my hand with another text. This time, it’s Henry. I nearly rub my hands together with glee.
Finally, things are getting stimulating!
Henry: Want to meet for lunch?
I grin to myself, leaning back in my chair as I tap out a quick reply.
Me: Is this a booty call?
“What are you doing?” June’s voice pops up behind me, startling the life out of me. I turn slowly to find her leaning over my cubicle wall. “Who are you texting?”
I quickly tilt my phone away, hiding the screen. “Jeez, stalk much?”
June rolls her eyes. “You want to go get lunch? I’m starving.”
I smirk. “Juni, you’re always starving.”
“Because I’m pregnant,” she argues back, a small frown line forming between her eyebrows.
I laugh. “I’m not judging. I mean, that baby growing inside you is a boy, and as we all know, men are soul-suckers,” I say matter-of-factly, leaning back and crossing my arms.
“Shh,” June shushes me. “Don’t say that too loud, Ave. Everyone in the office could hear.”