Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Take it however you want it,” Gunnar chuckles as he gives the Porsche gas and pulls out of the lot. “Just as long as I’m the one giving it to you later.”
He grins at me, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the shifter-thingy, like he’s the king of the world and what he just said was the funniest joke ever.
He’s wearing a navy green T-shirt that’s wrapped tightly around his muscles, making him look like he’s ready for war. I’ve never met a man like Gunnar before. Despite his boyish impishness, he’s dripping in manliness from head to toe.
I still can’t believe what we did in the women’s locker room at his gym. That was completely out of character for me. I’m normally super hesitant when it comes to guys; I’m standoffish, I take things slowly, and even when I do let a guy make a move on me, the most they ever get is a kiss.
A single kiss, that’s the farthest I’ve ever gone with a guy, and yet four days ago I was on my knees with Gunnar Jones’s enormous cock in my mouth, swallowing his cum as eagerly as I could.
It still feels like something out of a dream as I think about it now and as I look at him sitting strongly beside me.
Did that really happen? If I ask him about it now, will he verify it or will he ask me if I’m completely insane?
I actually did dream about it the last four nights–doing all that and more. Much more. Of course I can’t tell Gunnar about that now. It would only inflate his already massive ego.
“So where is this place you’re taking me?” I ask.
“Deadwood Gun Range,” he replies. “Gotta show you how to handle a weapon.”
“Right. Just in case I have to blow some guy’s head off?”
“That’s right.” He nods. “The world’s not nice, Nina.”
“You know I don’t own a gun, though, right?”
“Well we’ll have to take care of that, won’t we?”
Before I can say another word, Gunnar slams on the gas, and we slide through a corner like we’re on a race track. I grab on to anything I can get my hands on as the Porsche rockets forward. I can hear him chuckling beside me, clearly getting a kick out of scaring me shitless.
It’s only a matter of minutes of him driving like a psycho before we’re pulling onto a dirt road with the sign for Deadwood Gun Range. All the rest of the vehicles are trucks or vans, but I can just tell that Gunnar doesn’t feel even remotely out of place as he parks beside a lifted Ford F-150.
“Here we are, princess.” He smirks. “Time to be badasses.”
He hops out, and before I can even push my door all the way open, he’s doing it for me, doing an over-the-top impersonation of a gentleman. He even bows his head like he’s a butler or something, extending his hand.
“Why thank you, my fine sir,” I say, putting on a silly Victorian accent as I take his hand and step out into the dirt.
“What are you, a queen now?”
“Always have been,” I reply with a teasing smile. “And you’re my squire. Now lead the way.”
“Oh, you better watch out trying to boss me around, missy,” Gunnar replies, snatching me up and tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh absolutely nothing. I squeal and laugh as he marches forward. “You just remember who’s really in charge here!”
He carries me away from the cars and up to a small building where he sets me down. I can hear gunshots echoing off in the distance, and know that I would be way more nervous than I already am if I wasn’t here with him. But having him by my side gives me a confidence that despite knowing absolutely nothing about guns, everything will be okay.
We sign in with an old man sporting a lumberjack’s beard and an American flag hat. I have to show my driver’s license, and as the man is handing it back to me, he gives me a sly glance and a frown.
“Not one of them terrorists, are ya?”
“What?” I gasp. “No!”
Gunnar laughs and throws an arm around me. “Meet Ned. He’s just screwing with you.” He pulls me out the door and calls over his shoulder, “We’ll see ya later, Ned!”
“Don’t let that little girl shoot herself!” Ned calls after us.
“What did he just say!?” I ask as we step outside.
“Just ignore him,” Gunnar says. “Come on, let’s get a couple of pop guns and get shooting.”
Gunnar leads me over to the range where a few people are shooting. There’s an instructor there he apparently is friends with named Chuck, who he introduces me to, and Chuck helps us pick out a couple of pistols from their selection.