Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Carson’s hands grip my hips so hard I know they’ll bruise, but I don’t mind. The bite of pain just makes the pleasure so much more intense. I take Stefan’s cock in my hand, letting him slip through the ring of my fingers, over and over. A guttural moan builds in Carson’s throat, and I know that he's close. The thrust of him inside me feels so good and as he thickens and pulses, the stretch gets even more intense.
Gabe’s face is strained. How he’s remaining so still, I don’t understand. "Fuck, Allie.” He grits his teeth, and he stares up at me. “You have no idea how this feels.”
And he’s right. I don’t. A woman’s perspective on sex will never be the same as a man’s. The physical sensations are different. The emotional connection is different. At least that’s what I think. We take men inside our bodies. That has to be different than being the one who pushes to enter.
“I’m close,” Carson warns.
“Me too.” Gabe’s hands rest against my breasts, squeezing, and the connection is like a live wire to my clit.
I urge Stefan forward so I can blow him, wanting to bring us all over the edge together. It’s a foolish aim. Too difficult to achieve, but I try regardless.
He’s so thick in my mouth. My jaw aches as his thighs tremble and he grips the edge of the table to retain some control.
“That’s it,” he says as I swirl my tongue around the head. “That’s it.”
The feel of him coming in my mouth is enough to trip my body into ecstasy, and behind me, Carson cries out so loudly, I’m certain the neighbors will hear. Beneath me, Gabe can’t hold himself motionless any further. His hips thrust up as he releases into me, and I almost lose my balance with the power of his movements.
From the sidelines, Oliver tells me how well I did and what a perfect girl I am.
Jonas whistles his appreciation.
Someone else claps, and I laugh.
I laugh from deep in my belly, throwing my head back and gasping for breath. Euphoria spills from within me. It’s a release of so much tension. The perfect way to let go of all the binds I’ve tangled myself in for so long.
I’m aware of how crazy I must look but no one seems to care. They join me in my laughter, and Gabe envelopes me into a fierce bear hug that knocks the breath from my body. I don’t know how long I lay there, surrounded by the men who’ve shown me heaven over and over, who’ve proved that while size matters, it’s definitely what you do with it that counts.
Within this group of men, I feel safe and free.
I finally feel what Natalie had described.
It’s only when we start to disentangle and find our clothes, with the sex glow diminishing and the need for food calling, that our future separation settles into my bones like antifreeze.
36
ALLIE
I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. With bleary eyes, opened only a sliver, I grab for it, missing as it moves out of reach. By the time I’ve picked it up from where it clattered to the floor, the caller has hung up, but as I squint to see who it was, the screen lights up again.
Grace.
I really don’t want to speak to her. Not after our last talk, but it’s the middle of the frickin’ night, my body is sore everywhere and we don’t do after hours conversations, ever. I swipe to accept the call, assuming some type of work emergency, and resenting it immediately. If Kirsty has asked Grace to disturb me at this ridiculous hour about this assignment, I’ll be fuming.
“Hello.” My voice is sandpapery and harsh.
“Allie. Have you seen it?”
I blink in the darkness, confused. “Seem what?”
She curses in a rush. “Open your socials, Allie. Just open your socials.”
The panic in her voice makes me scramble to sit. I fumble with the light switch and flick on the gold side lamp, sending a muted amber glow over the room.
I tap in my pin and open Instagram. The number of notifications I find is crazy. Following a tag, I find what Grace is referring to and my heart drops.
There in front of me is an image of me taken at the pool from above. The explicit parts of my body have been blurred out, but the men surrounding me in various stages of undress are obvious, and the sexual activity taking place is brazen.
Someone photographed me having sex with ten men.
Oh my god. Who did this?
I do a quick headcount and find that all the men in the house are present in the picture. The fact that my first instinct is to suspect one of them feels horribly disloyal when they’ve all been nothing but good to me.