Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Izaac - I told you not to fucking tempt me.
Aspen - I’m going to explode…
Izaac - Do it, baby. Let me hear you come for me.
“Oh, fuck,” she cries, and there’s a thud as something tumbles to the ground. She’s panting so heavily that it sounds like she’s right next to me, and I raise my hips, feeling ready to explode right along with her. Not a second later, the sweetest sound rocks through the wall between us. “Oh, God. Izaac. Yes!”
I come hard, shooting hot spurts of cum into the palm of my hand as Aspen rides out her high. I close my eyes, my head tilted back against the pillow as I just lay there, my chest heaving with a handful of cum. This really isn’t how I anticipated my night to go, but now that it’s happened, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I lay in silence, listening to Aspen’s breathing slow down until it fades completely, and then after hearing her place something on her bedside table, the three little dots appear on the screen again.
Aspen - He can never know.
I’ve never agreed to anything so fast in my life.
Izaac - Never.
9
ASPEN
My head pounds as I wake in my old childhood room, last night’s extracurricular activities coming back to me in screaming color. Did I really get off while Izaac listened in the next room over, texting me every dirty thing I’ve always dreamed he would?
I’ve always wondered if he had a filthy mouth while in the moment, and there’s no need to question it any longer. Izaac Banks has got the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard . . . or read.
And I fucking loved it.
Only now that the alcohol is no longer buzzing through my veins and my brain cells seem to be waking out of their alcohol-induced fog, last night suddenly doesn’t seem as exciting as it had before. It feels like nothing but cold, hard regret.
Why did I allow that to happen? I should have shut it down the second his first text came through, but I’ve wanted him for so damn long that I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing it through. Now, I somehow have to get out of bed, take a shower, and face him while knowing exactly what’s running through his head.
I’m screwed.
How the hell have I gone from practically joining a nunnery to having two insanely crazy sexually-filled nights in a row? Is this what it’s like to have finally found my sexual freedom? Or is this just what others like to call insanity? Surely texting my brother’s best friend while I was getting off is the kind of bullshit that should have me committed.
Throwing my blanket back, I let out a groan, unsure if it was from the humiliation of having to face Izaac or the killer hangover that pounds through my skull. Grabbing a dress for the day and my makeup bag, I trudge down the hall, being as quiet as possible. Izaac’s bedroom door is still closed. The last thing I need is to wake him and have to face the humiliation of what I did so early in the morning. I need at least a double shot of coffee before I’m capable of facing any of that bullshit.
I hurry through a shower, trying to get the remains of last night’s spilled drinks off my body before doing what I can to look somewhat human. After drying off, I pull on a pair of loose pants and a cropped tank before working on my hair. I dig through my makeup bag and cover up the dark circles under my eyes from the two late nights in a row before finally glancing over myself and deciding this is as good as it’s gonna get. It’s certainly not my most daring or breathtaking look, but it’ll have to do.
Wanting to be as far from the bathroom as possible when Austin wakes up and goes on another vomit rampage, I grab my pajamas and shove my makeup bag on top before heading for the door. I grab the handle and yank it open, only to find myself barricaded in, a half-naked Izaac standing on the other side, his strong arms gripping the door frame above my head.
My eyes widen, humiliation and horror blasting through my veins. I’m not even close to being ready to deal with what happened last night. I need to make a break for it, but damn, he smells so good, and that body . . . shit. His chest and abs are so defined, and my mouth waters, desperate to reach out and touch him. Hell, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite either.
The things I would do to this man . . .
His gaze slowly begins to drop when he lingers on my makeup bag. Confusion brims in my chest when his hand falls from the frame and he dips his fingers into my makeup bag, pulling out the two wristbands I’d shoved in here yesterday morning before I left for Mom’s birthday lunch—the very wristbands that tell him exactly just how much sexual experience I have.