Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 9925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 50(@200wpm)___ 40(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 50(@200wpm)___ 40(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)
He grins. “No, I'm not. I am going to have a little bit of fun with you. You think it's funny to get me hard. Taunting me like that.” He chuckles, “Not gonna happen. I'm not gonna let you rile me up.”
I groan. “That's so unfair. I'm seriously aching for you, please.” I get up on my hands and knees on the mattress, clasping my hands together. I'm not above begging. “Come closer,” I say. “And just give me your hand.”
I pull his hand toward me and drive his fingers toward my cunt. “See how wet I am?” I clench my pussy tight with his hand between my legs. “You know you want it.”
His eyes tell me he is going to draw this out. “Yeah, I want it,” he says, “I wanna finger you hard. I wanna fuck you good. I wanna make you scream my name, Rachel, of course, that's what I want, but it's not happening now. Not after you tease me about my hard-on. Maybe it'll teach you a lesson. Maybe you can start being nice. Instead of being such a little brat.”
My nipples are hard at his words. Lust rolls through me. I drop back my head, my long hair swishing as I do. “You make me crazy.”
“Good. Hold on to that energy, you dirty little girl. And later we'll see if you've earned my cock.”
CHAPTER 2
RYAN
On the way to the mall, Rachel asks if we can stop at a drive-through. "I'm hungry," she tells me, frowning.
I chuckle. "Whatever you want, babe."
We pull over at a fast-food restaurant and she asks for an ice cream cone and french fries. I shake my head as I pay, knowing watching that girl lick a cone for the next 45 minutes is going to drive me fucking wild. She knows it too.
As we get back on the highway, I have to clench my jaw to focus. She's licking that ice cream cone with such vigor, I can't help but be hard. I press my hand to her thigh, squeezing tight. "You want me to get in a wreck?" I ask, glancing her way. She's got her mouth open, her tongue sliding up and down that cold cone.
"Well, if you won't let me lick you, I guess this will have to suffice," she says, teasing me until I have to pull my hand away. "You know," she says, "you could just inch your fingers up a little bit higher, press your hand against my pussy. Or I could take off my jeans," she says with a shrug, as if this is completely nonchalant. "For better access, you know, if you want to finger fuck me before we get to our final destination."
I chuckle. "You think this is funny?" I ask her.
She grins. "I think it's hilarious. And it's not my fault you're hard with blue balls. I was ready and willing in the bedroom. You're the one who denied me. Denied us both, actually." She grabs some french fries from the paper sack, munching on them. “At least I can satisfy my hunger cravings with this greasy food since you're not letting me swallow anything else."
When we finally arrive at the mall, we're both in good spirits. My cock has finally calmed down and she's had her little sugar rush. When we get out of the car, I take her hand.
"I'm not letting go of you. You understand?"
She presses her lips together, her eyes nice and wide. "Whatever you want, Daddy."
"Oh, fuck me now," I say.
"That's what I was saying," she says, playfully.
We lace our fingers together as we walk into the mall. We don't come here very often, but I've been wanting to see this new movie. It's obscure and it's not playing at the Cineplex near us.
When I explain that to a Rachel, she groans. "Is it going to be a total action flick?"
"Sort of," I say. "It's about a couple and the wife gets kidnapped."
"That sounds horrible," she says. "No wonder it's not popular. It sounds depressing."
"Maybe," I say. "But the writer of the screenplay is a guy I follow online. I’m interested."
"Well, I guess we can all have our interests. I'll try my best to enjoy it."
I laugh. "You have your interests too," I say. "Your Bratz forum."
She smiles. "Yes, and you wouldn't believe what BakingWithBlondie did last week."
"Tell me."
She goes into detail, explaining how her friend Blondie burned dinner on purpose when she knew her husband was on his way home from work.
"What did he do?" I ask.
She laughs. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"Yeah," I say. "I actually would."
"Well, he made her pay, but you know that's the entire point."
"I hope she was properly punished,” I say as I open the door to the mall. We walk inside and a cold breeze of air conditioning greets us. "So where should we go first?" I ask.