Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he says.
“Fuck… yes. So bad.”
“Just imagine how bad he’s going to be feeling,” my hardcorer boyfriend says. “Imagine his bleeding asshole as he strains.”
“I wish I could see. Oh fuck, Josh. I wish I could see.”
“I’d love to see your Daddy washing your sweet pussy out with a flannel, too. So caring of him. I’d love to see you staring up at him with those pretty blue eyes while he washes your mouth out for bad behaviour. Naughty girl.”
I reach between my legs and strum my clit, begging Josh for harder, deeper even though I’m stretched to breaking. Our dirty talk has me horny as fuck. I dare to slide two fingers in my cunt as Josh batters my ass like a savage.
I come so hard that I gush, soaking the bedsheets underneath us without a care in the world, and Josh unloads in tandem, cursing filth as he empties his precious balls in my dirty ass.
We lie together on wet sheets, and Josh pulls me close, no tosses given for the state of us.
“I love you, Ells,” he says.
“That’s good, since I love you right back, Joshua. I’d be so lost without you.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because I’d always find you. Always. Twin flames last for ever, yeah?” He offers his dirty hand in a high five, and I slap it with a grin.
“For ever and ever.”
“Amen.”
I’m nervous of hitting the Mulberry, our very favourite restaurant. It’s high class, and at the top of its prestigious game and the very opposite from holing up in a hideaway, too scared to go out for fish and chips. But it’s our last night before our calendars open again. A night to remember.
“You can do it,” Josh says, straightening his purple bow tie. “It’s a celebration. Final night of freedom, so let’s hit it hard.”
I’m in a gown I haven’t worn in months. A deep purple slip dress, with a split to the thigh. It matches my lipstick, accentuated by my smoky eyes, and my black hair is in long flowing waves down my back.
This isn’t low key. Not for either of us.
Still, I take his arm as we leave our apartment, and assure myself I can do this. We can do this. Together.
It’s a relief when we get welcomed into the restaurant without drama. Not so much as a raised eyebrow. Nothing but top-class service as the maître d’ shows us to our table upstairs, with the beauty of the indoor fountain in clear view over the balcony railings.
Their menu has changed, but it still has our staples. I have my regular side of fries with my smoked salmon, and Josh has his pepper seasoned salad with his tenderloin steak. We clink champagne glasses like we’ve never been away.
“Cheers to us, and how far we’ve come on this journey. I’m so proud of you, Ells.”
“Cheers to us, Josh. Thanks for everything. I couldn’t ask for more. Everything is –”
“Amazing!” we say at once, and laugh.
“You’re amazing, Ells.”
“Touche.”
The ambience is wonderful as we chat and laugh, oblivious to the diners around us. My nerves die down to nothing, and my anxiety fades away. It’s a reawakening. A new beginning. The next stage in our tumultuous, fantastic, crazy filthy life together. I feel it.
How bizarre that life being back to normal can feel like such a turning point.
Josh has already got the bill when he reaches in his pocket for his phone, ready to order a cab. He smirks as he looks at his screen.
“More proposals?” I ask.
“I’m quite a popular guy, it seems. People can’t get enough.”
He’s scrolling with a smirk on his face until he stops dead. I watch the colour drain from his cheeks, and my steady Joshua starts shaking. His fingers fumble.
Shit.
“What is it?” I ask him, dashing to his side of the table. “What’s happening? Are you ok?”
My heart pumps, anxiety returning like a beast as my chest tightens. Terrified.
Until Josh hands me his phone so I can see the screen.
No fucking way.
My fingers shake as bad as his. I suck in a breath as I try to take in the message.
User 1543. Male. 34.
Please, don’t decline again.
I need to see you. Both of you.
Typhoon of shit, or not, I don’t fucking care.
Duration: Four hours.
Proposal price: Whatever you want. Just accept, please.
“What are you going to do?” I ask Josh, trying not to let my own screaming emotions take hold. This is his proposal. His client. His call.
Josh takes his phone back. His eyes are so intense they could burn the screen.
Time stands still, hovering in nowhere land. You could cut the tension with a knife until Josh sighs, taking a deep breath as he regains his composure, far quicker than I do.
I’m a jittery mess as he turns to face me.
“It’s time,” he says, and clicks the button.