Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Emily has no idea that I’m watching though. She’s innocent and continues to hum as she lifts one leg up to brace it against the wall. Holy fuck, what the hell is going on? I watch, palming my fuckshaft, as the young woman reaches for a pink razor and then begins to shave herself there. What the hell? Is this something young girls do now?
Even more, I can see it all. I watch, rapt and hungry, as she gently pulls her labia tight, getting a close shave on her fat bottom lip, before turning to her other labia and shaving that one well. The beautiful blonde taps her clit lightly, teasing herself, before letting out a satisfied sigh. Then, the unspeakable happens. Yes, my little brat is more than just dirty. She’s fucking filthy, and as I watch, she props her knee up even higher against the slick tiles of the wall. Then, she bends forward, parting the big white cheeks of her bottom, and begins shaving that tight pucker.
My cock jerks in my hand, an involuntary gush of ejaculate wetting my palm. Holy fuck ...? Is this really happening? But sure enough, Emily is gently swiping her back buttonhole, making sure to get all the hair there so that she’s as bare and clean as a baby. Not only that, but she switches positions. She straightens, still with her knee propped against the wall, and then twists and stretches so that one hand is in back of herself, wielding the razor as she scrapes against that delicious knot from a different angle.
I’m overcome with desire. I can’t help it. I never thought I’d have a beautiful young woman in my cabin, with giant Double Ds and a pretty pink pussy. Not to mention that tight, vulnerable asshole .... FUCK! With a growl, I rush out the door and hurl myself out of the cabin, disappearing into the forest behind the property. My thick shaft is in my hand and within seconds, I’ve ejaculated like a madman against a tree. Hot spurts of come erupt like a machine gun going berserk, spraying filth all over the pure, innocent snow as I howl with release. I desperately crave the innocent woman in my house ... but I can’t have her because she’s my ex’s daughter.
9
Emily
Christian’s been acting weird lately. I thought we’d reached a truce, seeing that he enjoyed the hearty stew I made last night. He actually thanked me for my efforts, and said he appreciated the gesture.
But something’s changed, and it happened in the blink of an eye. We settled in for the night, and I fell asleep almost immediately, tired from scrubbing, cooking, and cleaning all day. The next morning, the alpha male appeared for his morning run, but he wouldn’t talk to me at breakfast, not even to compliment my apple flapjacks. He wouldn’t meet my eyes either. When I spoke to him, he grunted something in return, and then immediately disappeared out the door and into the woods.
It was like that for lunch and dinner too. Christian was a wall of non-responsiveness, and I gave up because there was nothing I could do. Now, it’s time for sleep, and I’m warm and rosy after my evening shower. I stand at the foot of the sofa before plumping the cushion that I use as a pillow. My favorite sleep t-shirt is on, transparent and soft from years of use, and I slide onto the couch before pulling the thick woolen blanket over my curves. Who knows what Christian Degas is doing right now? A light glows from the crack beneath the bedroom door, and I can hear the faint clacking of his keyboard. Fine, he’s a workaholic. I get it. It’s not my business, and I close my lashes, resolving to get some rest.
But sometime during the middle of the night, my eyes fly open because there’s a person in the room. I can feel it, even in the darkness. Someone’s here.
A low growl sounds, almost tortured in its tone.
“Emily,” a deep voice rasps. “Shit, baby. Please wake up.”
I sit up, the blanket falling from my chest to reveal my big breasts, almost visible beneath the thin t-shirt.
“Who’s there?” I whisper, trying to see in the darkness. “Who is that?”
“It’s me,” a low moan sounds. “I need to see you, baby. These past two days have turned me into a fucking beast.”
My eyes begin to adjust and I make out a huge shape in the living room. It’s Christian! He’s towering and massive, standing about ten feet away right outside the bedroom. Those blue eyes flash as he takes in my creamy curves and disheveled blonde hair.
“You’re so gorgeous, baby girl,” he whispers in a pained voice, harsh streaks of strain visible against his high cheekbones. “I can’t resist, sweetheart. Please, let me see.”