Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Like a Greek god, his entire body is cut from stone, each muscle, each dip, and plane from his shoulders, down his chest, and over his abs, that lead down to a well-defined v. He’s perfect all over, and it’s disgusting, because someone as cruel as him, shouldn’t get to look like this.
“Like the view?” He winks, and I feel my cheeks heating. Stupid hormones.
“The view is nice. The person attached to it, not so much.” I reach for his cock, not even sure why I’m doing this. I shouldn’t want to touch him, not after all that he’s done to me, but I can’t deny myself this one chance to watch him break.
He gives me a bored expression. “Stop talking and get on with the handjob, or I’ll find another use for your mouth.” I know it’s not an idle threat. He’s made it before and followed through. As soon as my hand makes contact with the silky skin, he hisses. I squeeze the flesh, reveling in the touch of his smooth length. Then, I start to move, up and down, up and down. His length moves through my hand easily, and after a few strokes, I peer up at him.
His eyes are soft, his normally rough, hardened features are relaxed, and I swear, he looks ten times more handsome in this state.
“Fuck, your hand feels so good.”
I chew on my bottom lip, feeling my own arousal start to pool in my core. Warmth fills every pore on my body as I watch the mushroom head disappear and pop back up with each stroke. Warren starts to pant, his perfect chest rising and falling faster and faster.
“Squeeze me, squeeze my cock like your pussy will.” I don’t bother to correct him, don’t bother telling him that my pussy won’t do anything for his cock. I’m too caught up in what’s going on, the way he melts into the mattress, practically begging me to keep going. Power surges through me, and I squeeze him tighter.
“Fuck me, shit, keep doing that, and I’m going to come…”
“Isn’t that the point?” I release my lip and whisper.
A second later, he arches his hips and tips his head back into the pillows.
“Shit, shit. I’m coming…” My heart rate picks up, and my stomach clenches. Heat bubbles over inside of my core, and I want him. I want him to take the ache away. I want my bully, the monster, to ease my pain. One last stroke, and he erupts. Sticky, white cum leaves his tip in quick thick ropes, and I stare at them, becoming mesmerized by them.
My strokes become softer as he calms down from his release. When the last drops of his release bead the tip of his cock, and his whole body shutters, I pull my hand away. At the loss of touch, a coldness sweeps over me.
“I can’t believe I thought you were honest when you told me you wanted to wait…” He shakes his head, and in a flash, I’m reminded of all the times he wanted to have sex, and I turned him down.
He wanted me so badly, as badly as I wanted him, but I just wasn’t ready. I was insecure and scared, he was confident and didn’t have a worry in the world. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to be my first, it was just I wasn’t ready yet. I was afraid. Of the pain, of what would happen to us afterward.
“Of course, that was all a lie. You were ready, all right. You just didn’t want it to be me.”
Why does he keep saying these things? Like missing puzzle pieces, his behavior makes no sense to me. Why does he keep assuming that I’m experienced, that I’m some chick that fucks any guy that looks her way?
“I don’t understand… I’ve never…” In a second flat, he goes from being relaxed and calm to the same horrid man he was before. A dark mask covers his face, taking the man I fell in love with when I was a teenager away.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” He slams his huge hand over my mouth and shoves me onto the mattress on my back. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a moving car, I peer up at him. He looks like an animal protecting its meal. His eyes are so dark, no light can be seen in them. I whimper underneath his hand but don’t dare move.
He looks as if he would snap my neck in a second if I did. Using his other hand, he trails it up my thigh, his nails scraping against my skin. Both pain and pleasure erupt inside me.
“I can’t believe I used to want you, used to love you…” he laughs bitterly.
When he makes it to the boxers I’m wearing, he dips a finger into the waistband and pulls them down my legs. This strange feeling consumes me, this is wrong, and I shouldn’t want this, but I do. I slightly part my legs, giving him a silent invite.