Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Goddamn, I want to use my mouth again. I want her to come on my tongue, but that would mean ruining this rhythm, and that feels like a crime against nature right now.
“Tell me what you like.”
“This. You. Everything!”
Under five minutes in and she’s on the verge of coming.
Fuck, I don’t know how long I can hold back when her pussy grips like a glove, fanning the inferno in my balls.
I try to calm down, to slow her, to ease myself, moving from small circles to just side to side.
“This?” I growl.
“I—” Her eyes glaze and her mouth forms a pink ring. “Yes. Yes, Holden.”
Fucking gone.
I take her little ass with both hands, the better to break her.
The mad, desperate noises she makes in the back of her throat tell me I’m not going to last very long, but it doesn’t matter.
As long as she comes on my dick when I fill her.
As long as we come together.
I’m on her like a freight train, hips crashing into hers, flinging her up and down until she screams and her sweet cunt clenches my cock.
The ride of her life.
The storm, the passion, the obsession.
And when she does come, her pretty lips peeling open in a messy broken gasp, I go manic.
I pound her little pussy until it feels like my heart will shatter if our bodies don’t first.
We break together.
My spine ignites.
Growling, I hold her down, filling her with seed so hot I feel like a human candle melting.
And I keep my cock rooted for a while, so deep, madman that I am, jealously holding it inside her until I’m forced to pull out.
When we’re truly done, I get up and clean her with a towel from the bathroom before I pull her head under my chin.
We drift off wrapped in secrets and warm skin.
We share the same shock and awe in our dreams.
17
SHINE LIKE A DIAMOND (CLEO)
Is this still real life?
I’m not sure I’m awake.
I stop and question if the egg unleashed some weird spell that’s trapped me in this fantasy.
It’s been an entire week.
A whole freaking week of being someone else’s happy ending. Holden making me breakfast in the morning, helping me call museum curators on three different continents.
Spending evenings where I help Kit with her homework and her poetry. It takes me back to being her age, hacking out crappy emo haikus and free form sonnets.
Believe me, mine were actually crappy, but hers are good.
She has a wonderful little mind, and she gets that art is just another way you distill the world until someone else can see how it makes sense through your eyes.
Right now, she’s experimenting with different forms, but I think she’ll settle for something modern and poignant.
Poetry that’s not inhibited by rules.
Not rhythm or meter or rhyme, just words on a page with a raw heart behind them. The best kind I relate to when I’ve always been more of a visual artist.
And in her poems, I see glimpses of the woman her mom could’ve been if she’d had a different life, a different soul.
Charli.
I don’t want to think about her, because then I think about Holden being sad. Begging her to give them a chance. Leaving them alone and miserable until she dragged herself back here to die.
Who even does that? What kind of defective person?
Holden reassures me that’s not how he sees me, but sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see my dad.
I’d like to think he’d never sink that low since he did raise me. Sort of.
Still, it’s too close to home.
How many times did Dad abandon me for briefer stretches?
Like it or not, I’m his daughter, and now I’m grown. Sometimes I wonder what that means.
Just like sometimes I look at the blue veins under my skin and wonder how far blood runs.
But mostly, I’m happy.
I’m incandescent.
Because my biggest problem during nights with Holden Verity is stuffing a gag in my mouth so I don’t wake the neighborhood.
From the first night we fucked, we both knew we didn’t want it to end. No wham-bam-awesome-ma’am or dine-and-dick.
Waking up beside him feels like New York. Except this time when I roll over to lie against him in the grey morning light or a golden splash of sun, there’s no hesitation.
No regret.
He pulls me against him like I’m right where I belong. Like I’ve found a home I didn’t even know I was looking for, and that’s heady.
When we wake up in the morning—or sometimes in the middle of the night—we slot together like pure instinct. I have to bite his hand to keep myself from making too much noise when he makes me explode.
It’s almost weird, in a way, having this illicit relationship when I’m already living with him. Kit’s becoming like the little sister I never had.
And Holden—
God, Holden.
“Something on your mind?” he asks me one night after he’s pulled out of me, slow and dreamy, still holding my head in his hands and muffling my moans with his mouth.