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)
When I start to sense she’s coming down from her orgasm, my restrain evaporates. I allow the furious need to ejaculate to rush in from every direction and it’s so intense that I feel like a monster. I feel like a fucking monster when I flip her over face down, twist my fist in the back of that silk tank top still circling her waist for leverage, and pump into her pussy roughly from behind, giving a hoarse shout of her name the first time my lap slaps off that tight, round ass.
“Four years of sitting behind you in class. Watching this butt twitch down the hallway in those little tramp skirts while I got harder and harder and fucking harder.” I drop my chest to her back and whisper in her ear. “You owe me this. Don’t you, baby? You owe me something nasty. Clench that pussy up tight. I’m taking my payment.”
“Take it, Daddy,” she gasps.
Obviously, I’m screwed after that. Having her call me Daddy while I’m raw-dogging her is a nightly fantasy of mine. I’m a goner. I punch my hips several more times, every muscle in my body straining violently, like a volcano preparing to erupt. And I do. I slam into her so hard, we collapse into the grass, a firestorm raging inside of me, tension blasting out of me like cannon fire into Ayla’s sweet, giving heat. I shake and drip sweat and curse while seed leaves my body and flows into hers. Putting life into her body. Creating life with my obsession.
I don’t think I knew how riddled I’ve been with stress I’ve been for the last four years until I’m depleted. I’ve been sick with the need to impregnate her and I feel temporarily cured, my muscles going slack, my bones turning weightless.
I lay down beside the love of my life in the grass, wrap my arms around her for dear life and praise her to sleep while I gaze up at the sky and dream about our future. A future that will almost certainly include a baby. Babies. A family.
And she wants that, too. I didn’t read her wrong.
Right?
seven
Ayla
It has been the best week of my life.
Ever since Flynt took me to the lake, I’ve been floating through life like an inner tube on a lazy river. My father doesn’t know what to make of my constant smiling, so he just hides even more securely behind his newspaper at the breakfast table every morning. I’ve been wearing turtlenecks to school, because I’m covered in scruff marks and love bites and other reminders of my man. My man. But I covered the ones on my neck in makeup today because I’m feeling…naughty. I’m feeling sexy and I’m sensitive in the oddest places, like the nape of my neck and the backs of my knees. I want to tempt Flynt.
Honestly, he’s tempted by me when I’m in a turtleneck, so maybe there is no need for my short, plaid skirt and the white blouse that barely buttons over my breasts. Today feels special, though. My period is late. It was supposed to arrive yesterday and still hasn’t. Somehow, I’m already positive I’m pregnant. No need for a test.
I feel his life inside of me.
How could I not when he’s put it in me so many times?
Just this week, we’ve been down to the lake six times. Before school, after school and once when Flynt needed me terribly during fourth period. Every time I think about him moaning in the rear bed of his truck with my ankles around his ears, I encounter a rush of wetness. Euphoria. He makes my body feel things I didn’t know were possible and I do the same for him.
We mate like animals.
Flynt tells me the magnitude of attraction isn’t typical. It’s special. It only happens once in a lifetime and to some people, not at all.
I’m going to tell him I love him today.
Right after I seduce him.
I’m going to put him in the best mood possible and then tell him I lied about being on birth control. He will forgive me, right? Yes, I believe that. The way he speaks about us being together forever…he means those things.
What if he doesn’t want a baby right now, though?
We’re only eighteen.
Will he understand the gravitational pull I felt to get pregnant with his baby? Will he understand that I craved having his child inside of me to the point of pain? I barely understand it myself…and it’s too late now to be anything but happy. I want to have Flynt’s baby.
I just hope he wants that, too.
Flynt is waiting for me in the parking lot when I pull into my usual space—and holy moly, he is so incredibly gorgeous. Even more so now that he isn’t dripping with constant tension. Leaned up against the side of his truck in his boots, jeans and wind-tousled hair, he looks well satisfied. He likes the red marks he leaves on my inner thighs, so he hasn’t shaved in a week, giving him a dark, dangerous shadow on his jaw. My pulse is racing out of control before I even put my car in park and step out of the driver’s side.