Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Oooh!” I scream, tossing my head back. “Unnnh, yes!”
Liam looks up for a moment, his chin slick and shiny and grins.
“That’s my cock-hungry fuckslut,” he rasps. “You’ve been flashing this pink pussy at me all morning, wearing nothing but my shirt with your vag bare underneath. I could hardly focus.”
I scream again as another orgasm hits, but Liam doesn’t stop. He keeps eating me through the aftershocks, like he’s addicted, before standing and wiping his mouth on a napkin.
But my man needs relief too. He doesn’t say a word. He just slides his sweats down, cock springing out, already hard and shining at the tip. He lines up and thrusts inside me in one motion, making me gasp and clamp around him.
“Oh my god,” I pant. “You’re so big—unnnnnh!”
He grins like a beast, flashing white teeth.
“That’s right,” he rasps. “Daddy needs to bury every single inch of his cock in you to be satisfied. Your dirty pussy needs to learn to take my cock at any time while you’re in my house, sweetheart. You hear that?”
I can’t answer because the pleasure’s building again. He fucks me hard, bracing me with both hands so I’m pinned to the cold, slick countertop, legs splayed open, the world reduced to the heat of him inside me and the way his chest hammers against mine.
“Unnh,” I moan again, my big breasts jiggling in time with the pistoning of his hips. “Ohhhh god.”
He fucks like he’s staking a claim. Every thrust drives me higher, and I claw his shoulders, digging in just to hold on.
“Liam,” I pant, barely able to breathe.
He looks at me, eyes wild, and says, “Mine.”
I nod, desperate. “Yes, Daddy,” I whine. “I’m yours.”
Something lights in his eyes, and he fucks me harder, the sound of skin on skin slapping obscenely. I’m close again, so close it hurts, and when he reaches between us to thumb my clit I shatter again, spasming so violently I almost slip off the counter. He holds me up, lets me ride it out, then drives into me with one final, punishing thrust.
“Fuck!” he roars, a conqueror claiming his territory. “Shit shit shit!”
Liam grunts, face twisted in pure pleasure, and I feel the warmth flood inside me, pulse after pulse of raw, perfect heat. His abs flex, the expression on his face raw desire as his cock shoot ripples.
“Fuck!” he shouts again, his cock like a firehose as it fills me with virile jizz. “Holy shit!”
He doesn’t pull out. He collapses over me, face in my neck, breath hot and ragged as an overflow of sticky sperm trails out from between our bodies. We cling together, a messy tangle of sweat and fluids and desire and need.
For a long time neither of us moves. Then, very quietly, he says into my ear, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
It’s so raw, so unguarded, that I want to cry.
Instead, I pull his face up to mine and kiss him, soft and deep, like we have all the time in the world.
Eventually he helps me down, hands gentle now. My legs wobble, and I almost fall. He laughs, catches me, and says, “You’re a disaster.”
“So are you,” I reply, and we laugh together.
We clean up the mess in the kitchen, neither of us mentioning the sex or the jam on my ass or the way the countertop is probably going to smell like me for a week.
When I finally get dressed to leave, he walks me to the door, arm around my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. He kisses me once, then again, then says, “Be good.”
I promise nothing.
I drive back to my dorm, sore and still leaking his come, every step a reminder of what happened. But I’m smiling, like I have a secret, the world brighter and sharper than it’s ever been.
I know I’m falling for him.
I know it’s dangerous.
But right now, I don’t care.
Right now, I’m the happiest girl in the world.
13
A MIRACULOUS ACADEMIC IMPROVEMENT
SIMONE
Two months pass like water under a frozen bridge: so fast you don’t realize it’s melting until you’re through and the ice is slush behind you. Winter at Century College is just like every other year, except I’m not. I’m Simone 2.0—a girl who, against all odds, is not only still in school, but suddenly pulling decent grades, and pretending that nothing has changed except the size of my ambition.
This is all on display one gray Tuesday night in the main library, a Gothic cave of cracked wood, yellow-glowing lamps, and the muffled desperation of a horde of students cramming for finals. I’m wedged into a booth-like table with Andie, both of us surrounded by teetering towers of literary theory—Jameson, Barthes, the complete set of Modern American Novels like a brick wall between us and the rest of campus. The air smells like dust and pencil shavings, but also like the lingering aftertaste of victory.