Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I lean back to urge him on, and the stretch feels so unbelievably good.
“That’s about all you can take,” he says, stilling as the head of his cock touches the back of my pussy. “How’s that feel?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. Broad shoulders, wide neck—a sheen of sweat coating his skin. If I didn’t see this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.
A smirk kisses my lips. “It feels like I want fucked.”
His eyes hood and his fingers bite so hard into my hips that it burns. “You better hold on.”
“Okay.”
He slides out and then slams into me, nearly splitting me apart. I scream out in surprise and delight, the mixture of pleasure and a hint of pain deliriously good. He hisses a breath, gripping me tightly and using it as leverage to rail me from behind.
If this is the fucking that Gianna is always talking about, sign me up.
I rock back as he thrusts forward, his grunts and my moans mixing with the sound of our bodies slapping together. Each stroke is relentless. Each drive somehow deeper and harder than the one before.
Revering. Savoring. Indulging.
The buildup comes faster this time and spreads quicker than the orgasm before. It’s hotter, more intense, and I can’t start to control it as it rolls through my body.
“I’m coming,” I yell, squeezing my eyes shut from the pressure.
“Me, too.” His groan is guttural and raw as he pumps into me. “Fuck.”
I can’t respond. Can’t speak. I’d fall on my face if his hands weren’t holding me up. I’m completely at his whim.
“Shit.” He blows out a breath, shuddering one final time. “Are you all right?”
“Maybe. I might be dead. This could be heaven.”
He laughs, pulling out of me. As soon as he releases me, I collapse onto the mattress. Now that is having an orgasm with a man. Check!
Brooks curls up behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder. “That was, by far, the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” He kisses the crook of my neck. “You are fucking magic. Everything about you is magical.”
I grin, glad he can’t see it because I’m certain it’s goofy.
“You’re a mess,” he says, hopping up. “There’s a big tub in there with a pink bubble bath container and a pretty great smelling candle.”
I give him a thumbs up and close my eyes, unable to respond.
There are a few watershed moments in life when it becomes life before and life after events. And this was one of those moments—the point of no return.
The new Audrey is here and she’s here to stay.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Brooks
“I can’t believe you packed cereal,” Audrey says, giggling beside me.
The bedroom is dark. The only light comes from the moon hanging in the inky sky and the candle burning in the bathroom. I can never sleep, so being awake at two in the morning isn’t new for me. Audrey, though, keeps yawning.
“Cereal is the best food on the planet,” I say, popping a chocolatey ball in my mouth. The crunch is so satisfying. “You can eat it with milk like a proper meal, or dry like a snack. You can go whole grain bullshit if you want to pretend you’re healthy, or say fuck it and just get the ones with marshmallows. There are hundreds of ways to do it.”
She curls against my side, draping an arm over my chest, and sighs. But she should be happily sighing. I fed her takeout, fucked her twice since we arrived, and fought her in an impromptu self-defense lesson that led to the second fucking of the night. I sure as hell don’t have any complaints.
I’ve learned quite a few things today, none of which I ever set out to learn. I know Audrey loves baths so hot that it practically melts your skin, that her toes look adorable poking out of the bubbles, and I don’t mind bathing with a woman. Who knew?
“I would say the same things about pizza,” she says. “That’s how I put on fifteen pounds my freshman year—solely on pizza.”
“Did you just binge it or what?”
“Pretty much. We didn’t have it a lot growing up, so once I could do what I wanted, I went a little overboard.”
“A childhood without a lot of pizza is something I can’t fathom,” I say, popping another handful of cereal into my mouth. “That’s about all I ate growing up. Mom worked her second job in a little sandwich shop that served individual pizzas. They could eat on their shift for free, so she’d bring me a pizza home almost every night.”
Audrey’s fingertips trace the lines of my muscles. “What’s your mom like? I know you’re close with her, but what does she do now?”
I almost change the subject, because it doesn’t matter, and I’ve discovered the more you know about people, the more complicated things get. But as I shift topics, I realize I’m still technically right. It doesn’t matter. And that’s why it doesn’t matter if I tell her about my mom or not. It can’t hurt anything. Neither of us is under an illusion that this is anything more than a few fun days, so what the hell?