Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
As soon as Flynt sees me, he pushes off the truck, his dark eyebrows winging toward his hairline. “Ayla,” he chokes out, his gaze devouring me top to bottom. “Get back in the car.”
I was expecting this. “Why?” I ask, casually. “You don’t like my outfit?”
“I like it too much.” He jerks his chin at the students passing by. “So will everyone else.”
I round the front bumper of my car and slide onto the hood, leaving my legs to swing carefree in front of me. “I’m leaving it on. It makes me feel pretty.”
His eyes soften slightly, but not completely. “You’d be pretty in a potato sack, baby. But if you walk through the hallway in that outfit, I’m going to end up murdering somebody.” He reaches me then, groaning as he steps between my thighs. “Goddamn. You wore the panties.”
He has a serious thing for my nude mesh underwear because I was wearing them the first time he saw beneath my skirt. The day at the garage.
“Mmmm.” I nod, tug him closer by the front of his shirt. “Wore them just so you could take them off.”
“Ayla.” Eyes glittering with need, he swoops in and kisses me hard. “You’ve missed too much class this week, thanks to my dick. I can’t keep allowing you to ditch school.” His gaze falls to my breasts and he licks his lips. “I want to be a better boyfriend than that.”
My heart turns over. “You’re the best boyfriend.”
“Am I?” There’s something like guilt in his expression, but it quickly ebbs and I wonder if I imagined it. “I could be better. I could be helping you secure a better future, instead of…”
“Instead of what?”
His mouth presses into a stubborn line. “That outfit doesn’t darken the doorway of this school, Ayla. I mean it.” An idea seems to occur to him. “Stay right here. I have a sweatshirt in the rear cab of my truck…”
Flynt throws a warning look at a group of passing boys, then leaves me briefly to open the truck’s back door and root around. While his back is momentarily turned, I hop off the hood of my car and start heading up the path toward the entrance. A moment later, I hear the truck door slam and a growl of my name. My blood pumps faster as I pick up my pace, smiling flirtatiously at Flynt over my shoulder, beckoning him with a crooked finger.
He catches up with me inside at my locker.
I’m not shocked whatsoever when he spins me around and backs me up against the cold metal door, my back connecting with a thunk, drawing the attention of several surrounding students. I wonder what we look like to everyone else. The quiet, straight-A student and the big, bad loner, making love to each other with our eyes, right there in front of everyone. Is our mutual obsession palpable?
Flynt tilts my chin up and whispers against my mouth. “What game are you playing, little girl?”
“I’m not playing a game,” I retort, subtly rubbing my breasts side to side against his chest. I’m pregnant with this man’s baby. It’s a thrill that electrifies me, makes my heart race and my breath sound pitifully thin. “But if you want to play one…” I whisper, watching his eyes go black. “I know for a fact that there is no one using the AV room this period.”
“It’s too risky.” His stiffness is beginning to prod my stomach. “Come on. I’ll take you down to the lake.”
I make that whiny sound that drives him wild. “I can’t wait that long.”
He swallows a moan. He’s so turned on now that his eyes are growing unfocused, sweat beading on his upper lip. “Ayla, I’m trying to do right by you—”
“I want you in my mouth.”
Every iota of his breath leaves him in a rush. “What?”
“Last night, I dreamed about giving you a blow job. Now I want to do it in real life.”
I’m not lying. I’ve daydreamed about it. Extensively.
How he would taste. How he would instruct me.
I don’t think he realizes that he has lifted me off the floor and pinned me against the locker, his hot, harsh breaths pelting my lips. “There’s just one problem with that, baby. My cock won’t fit in your little mouth. Don’t you think I would have fucked it by now?”
Maybe the skirt was a mistake.
My panties are so soaked by now that the insides of my thighs are beginning to turn moist and there’s nothing to hide my reaction. “It will fit.”
“Jesus, Ayla. I can barely get it in your pussy.” He presses closer, so close that my thighs are perched on his hips. “But maybe…”
“What?” I ask, searching his eyes.
He shakes his head, as if to clear the idea away. But he visibly can’t. It lingers. “You could lick it—” He cuts himself off with a groan. “You could lick it. And…”