Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
He fucks me in a way I’ve never been fucked before.
His hands jerks on my restraints as he picks up the pace, and, before I know it, I’m screaming out his name with another orgasm.
“Fuck. I love your little cunt,” he growls as he buries his cock deeper, as deep as he can possibly get it.
Then, he finds his release with a bellow that has my skin prickling. His body shudders behind me and the sensation that gives me is thrilling to say the least.
As he slowly comes to a stop, his body relaxing, I take a minute to process what we’ve just done.
Again.
When he pulls away from me, leaving that desperate, empty feeling inside me, the guilt finds its way to my brain once more.
Guilt that I’m doing this when there are kids out there I could be helping.
The guilt quickly turns into shame.
I’m sleeping with a man who could very well be a monster, and instead of being out there, fixing it, I’m in here ... doing this.
“Untie me,” I say, my voice suddenly panicked.
Nothing like the sudden drop of pleasure and emotion to bring out the inner demons.
Western does as I ask, untying me quickly. The moment my hands are free, I scramble off the sofa and frantically search for my clothes. The shame that is building in my body, minute by minute, is nearly enough to bring me to my knees. What the fuck am I doing? What sort of game am I playing? Am I truly so weak that I can’t stay away from Western for a single god damned moment? He hasn’t treated me well, yet here I am, pathetically searching for his comfort.
I’m ashamed of myself.
I jerk on my clothes, the warm cum trickling out as I pull on my jeans. That only makes me feel worse, horrified, even. Not only am I sleeping with him, but I’m doing it unprotected. Angry tears burn under my eyelids as I pull on my top and then turn, looking right at Western who is watching me, his jeans on but nothing else.
“I have to go,” I say quickly.
“You goin’ to run out every time we fuck?”
God. Fuck.
That’s all this is.
It isn’t ever going to be what I need it to be. It’s always just going to be fun.
I’m so stupid.
So incredibly stupid.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I say, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. “I’m sorry, but this ... whatever it is, it’s over.”
He doesn’t say anything, he just studies me, his head slightly tipped to the side.
“I wanted to believe that this could be something,” I manage, my voice breaking, “but the truth is, I don’t know you. I don’t know the man you truly are. I’ve been fighting against myself, because a big part of me just wants to run into your arms and never leave, but there is that other part, the part that tells me over and over again that I’ll never be enough to beat your demons. You’re broken, Western, and I need someone that is whole. I need someone who can actually love me. I ... That isn’t you.”
I walk toward the door and he calls out my name, I turn, trying not to cry any more than I already have.
“You’re wrong about me.”
That gives me pause, but not enough for me to stay.
I shouldn’t have come here tonight.
I just ... I shouldn’t have.
I have to let him go, once and for all.
Even if it breaks me.
PLEASE NO.
Please. No.
I close my eyes, begging for the higher power above, over and over, to let this be a nightmare. I’m wrong about it, I have to be. I’m just overreacting, probably getting way ahead of myself. Stress will do all kinds of things to a person, and I’ve been through a lot of it lately. I’m just panicking about nothing. When I flip this test over, it’ll say negative. It will because that wouldn’t happen to me.
It couldn’t.
It has been four minutes.
Should I check now?
Maybe I should?
The packet says five minutes.
Does it really matter?
God, this can’t be happening. I’m late for my period, and I’m never late, but I’m also never quite this stressed.
Heart racing, I watch the timer count down.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
It has been five minutes.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I turn the test over.
A loud cry rips from my throat as I stare at the + symbol. There is no missing it, it’s clear as day, right there on the tiny little screen.
Tears burst forth and roll down my cheeks.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant with Western’s baby.
My tears turn into hysterical sobs as I stare at the test, praying it’ll just disappear but it doesn’t. It stays right there, taunting me, reminding me that no matter what I do now, he’s always going to be in my life.
The past few days have been hell on earth. I’ve been hurting so badly about the choice I made to not see him anymore. To end whatever pathetic attempt at a relationship we had. I chose to let myself hurt and let myself move on. I’ve cried more than I’d like to admit, but I’ve been strong. I’ve avoided calls, texts, I even managed to sit by the door as he pounded on it, demanding I let him in.