Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
She shrugs her shoulders as she looks at me. “I guess because I was only five months pregnant. I mean . . . it’s not like he was born yet. I don’t know, maybe it’s silly.”
I sit up on the couch and bring Sophie up with me so she straddles my lap. “It’s not silly. He was our son and he deserves a memorial just as much as any other person would. Just because he didn’t get the chance to be born into this world, doesn’t make him any less real.”
“You think?” she asks. “I thought it would be a nice way to send him off and celebrate him. I wouldn’t want it to be like a black-tie event where everyone is mourning and sad or anything like that.”
“No, we’ll make it special for him.”
Sophie gives me a sad smile as she lets out a breath of relief. “And no one can wear black. That’s a rule.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure everyone knows.”
“No, not everyone,” she says with a sudden shake of her head. “Just the closest people. Like the ones he would have called aunty or uncle.”
“You got it, babe,” I say, wrapping her up in my arms and pulling her in tight.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I almost don’t want to do it. It just . . . it makes it so final.”
“Consider this his official send-off,” I tell her. “But you also need to remember he’s looking down on us, so it’s never really goodbye.”
I feel her head move against my shoulder as she gives a slight nod. “You know, if he was looking down on us when I was whooping that bitch’s ass, he would have been so proud of his momma.”
I can’t help but laugh as I roam my fingers over her shoulder. “Damn straight he would have been.”
Later that night, we settle into our usual routine as Sophie gets up to make dinner, and I watch her as she moves around the kitchen. Every last thing she does in there is completely wrong, and I know without a doubt that dinner is going to be awful. But she wanted to cook, so I’m rolling with it.
After watching her set the oven way too high, I decide it’s time to intervene. I get up off the couch and make my way across the kitchen, and reach around her to lower the temperature on the oven as her body folds into mine.
“I hope you’re not trying to take over the kitchen,” she accuses in a sultry voice.
“No, just keeping it from burning down,” I murmur into her ear as my hands travel down her body. Hell, she was in a nasty house fire during college and I’m not looking for any repeat performances of that night.
Sophie lets out a moan as she grips the kitchen counter and presses her body harder into mine. My hands come to the hem of her dress, and I slowly slide it up her legs before finding her underwear.
My hand snakes around the front of her body and slides down into the front of her panties to find her ready for me. “I wanted to wash up some of the dishes while dinner was cooking,” she moans as she grinds her sweet pussy against my hand.
“Not a chance,” I tell her, just as my fingers plunge deep into her cunt.
She lets out a surprised gasp, which quickly turns into another moan, and I watch as her grip on the counter tightens, her knuckles turning white. Then pulling my hand out of her panties, I grab her by the waist, quickly spin her around, and lift her onto the counter.
Sophie’s hands greedily reach for my jeans and she makes quick work of freeing me, while I pull her dress up over her body and tear those panties right off.
As my jeans fall to the ground, I quickly step out of them and allow Sophie to pull my shirt over my head. As usual, her hand dives for my chest and abs while the other snakes around the back of my neck, holding on as her nails dig into my back. My cock trails through her wetness and we both groan, and as the need becomes too much, I thrust deep, plunging into her tight cunt, listening to the sweet sounds of her needy cries.
Not getting the angle I want, I lift her off the counter and press her up against the fridge. She lets out a squeal as the cool metal assaults her skin, but that doesn’t stop her from holding on tighter and going along for the ride.
I fuck her hard and raw, both of us drowning in a sea of undeniable pleasure when she calls out for me to stop. “Seriously?” I question, stopping immediately.
“Oh, yeah. It’s my turn,” she says, and instructs me to take her to the couch where she can straddle me. The second she comes down on me, she forces me deeper, and I let out a groan, her tight cunt clenching around me. I raise my hips to meet her thrusts, but she pushes me back down. “Don’t even think about it, big guy. This is my show now.”