Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I knew I’d made him hard. Something might’ve happened if my mom hadn’t come bursting into the room moments later with popcorn for our movie night.
We’d both jumped apart abruptly, trying to hide what was happening, but my mother was far too clueless to see anything. I should’ve been covered in shame then. But I wasn’t. I felt some, sure. But not enough. Not nearly enough.
I’d excused myself and made myself come in the bathroom. It was not the first time I’d done that. My sexual appetite was healthy and well fed. I nursed many fantasies in the dark of night with my hand between my legs.
When I’d returned, flushed and not nearly satisfied, I’d locked eyes with Joshua, making it clear what I’d done. He’d coughed, eyes flared as he shifted in his seat once more. I enjoyed that. The power I had over him.
“I know a lot of people are talking about grooming these days,” I continued, back in the present. “That ‘even though you think you wanted it, you were just a child.’ And, for most other girls that age, it rings true. But I wasn’t a child. I never got the opportunity to be a child.”
The words continued to pour out as I drew circles on his hard pec. His hand was around my waist, the grip getting tighter and tighter as I spoke.
I liked that. An anchor to the present. The pain from a stranger I was giving everything to. I had never given anyone everything. Fuck, I hadn’t even given them half of me. I guarded my secrets, my true self. It made no sense, what I was preparing to tell him. To the outside observer, it would seem insane. Unrealistic. Insane to be sharing with a stranger who was quite obviously rich, powerful and dangerous.
But that was the thing about me.
The main thing that I guarded with a vengeance—I was insane. Broken. Wrong. And I somehow recognized something similar in this man, hence all of my walls crashing down. Now I’d started, I wasn’t going to stop. Not until he had the power to completely and utterly ruin me.
“I had to be the adult because my mom, as much as I loved her, wasn’t that.” My voice was harsh against the soft night. “I don’t resent her for that. Not a bit. But all the responsibility on my shoulders, all the men I’d been exposed to ... I knew what the world was. I knew my place in it. I knew my own mind. Even then, I knew that what I wanted wasn’t normal. That my needs didn’t measure up with the cheerleaders I hung out with, talking about how gross sucking dick was.”
I moved my hand downward to hold onto his cock which was half hard.
“I loved sucking dick,” I murmured. “Fucking loved the idea of men going down on me. Fucking me every way I could be fucked.”
I sucked in a deep breath, my body tingling with the memory of being fucked every way I could be fucked.
“Men,” I repeated, forcing myself back to the story. I couldn’t leave it how it was. “I wanted men to fuck me. I knew that. Which was why I didn’t let the boys screw me. I knew the experience would be awkward, messy and all about their pleasure. Beyond that, I knew that’s what everyone expected of me. The cheerleader. Pretty but from the wrong side of the tracks. It was my destiny to either get with the quarterback with the rich parents, let him get me pregnant so I could marry into money or sleep with all of them. But I didn’t want to do what was expected. I wanted what was wrong.” I paused, rubbing his thighs. They were strong, thick, muscled.
“I wanted the taboo. Even then.”
My mind went back into the past. Back to that trailer. I’d known it was only a matter of time before something happened with us. I could barely sleep, thinking about how I was going to make it happen. The fact I was betraying my mother in the most heinous way didn’t keep me up. It bothered me, but not enough. Not enough to ignore my urges.
It turned out Joshua had been thinking about it too, because only a few days after the movie night, I got home from school, and he was there, sitting in the living room. Mom was at work, covering the late shift at the diner.
He was wearing a white tee, jeans with paint splatters on them.
The man was still silent. He was waiting. For more. He didn’t just want the information, he wanted the details. Something told me that.
“I had just got home from cheerleading practice,” I murmured. “He was sitting in my grandfather’s old armchair, waiting. The second I closed the door, he stood. The creaking of the chair was the only sound for the longest time.”