Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
This is real. It’s happening. I need it to happen.
“Fine, spank me afterward,” I breathe, unevenly. “But you can’t stop me now.”
His hand lifts, hesitating over the bulging crotch of his jeans, before he gives in and massages himself through the stiff material. “Your first time should be with a real man,” he rasps. “Not some little toy.”
Little? Aren’t penises supposed to be around this size?
Setting aside that concern for another time, I shake my head defiantly and press the toy to my entrance, a mewling noise spilling out of my mouth. “I don’t want to wait anymore to be filled up. I need it now.”
“Then you’ll fucking get it from me, brat,” he pants, ripping down the zipper of his jeans and—holy shit. Holy shit. His shaft springs out of the opening, thick and unruly and as wide as my forearm. It’s twice the size as my ceramic phallus, which I have dropped in my utter shock at the sheer girth and length of him. I have no time to prepare as my uncle pins me down onto my back and settles himself on top of me, his substantial weight stealing the breath from my lungs. His long, black hair hangs down, tickling my shoulders, the gold cross around his neck dangling between us. Sweat dots his upper lip and forehead. “Open your thighs and get what’s coming to you.”
Poised on the edge of oblivion, my heart rejoicing in my chest, I obey him, spreading my legs as wide as I can, whimpering when Mase reaches down between us, gripping the turgid flesh and—
“Mase!” calls my stepfather, right outside the door. Followed by a knock. “Ripley, have you seen my brother?”
Mase has gone completely still on top of me, his hot breath pelting my face.
“Yeah, um…” I call, my voice unnatural. “He went out to check on his bike.”
My stepfather chuckles. “Him and that bike. Okay, thanks Rip.”
Several seconds pass where there is nothing but our harsh breathing, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I think that as soon as my father’s footsteps fade on his way down the stairs, Mase is going to finish what we started. I’m dying to watch that tight tether snap. So I’m shocked when he climbs off of me, shoving a hand through his unruly black hair. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he spits, turning away to zip his enormous erection into his jeans. “I can’t believe I let it get this far. Almost fucked my niece.” He casts me a tortured look over his shoulder. “Cover yourself up, Ripley.”
My head spins at this turn of events. “But…”
“Do it now.”
Horrified that my lip is beginning to tremble, I reach for a pillow and hold it over my still-aroused body. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Too. Bad.” Fully dressed now, he turns and jabs a finger at me. But his ire slowly dies, replaced by nothing but remorse—and I think that’s worse than seeing him pissed. “Listen to me. I’ve got no business putting my cock in a sweet thing like you. You’re going to college. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Don’t you dare fuck it up for someone like me.”
“I wouldn’t be!”
“Oh no?” He glances down at the bed, the bulge in his pants seeming to grow impossibly larger. “I’d have knocked you right the hell up, Ripley.”
“We can be more careful,” I whisper, a happy tingle going through my system at the idea of being pregnant with Mase’s child.
He shuts down, lips clamping together. “Go to school. Forget this ever happened.”
Before I can say another word or tell him I’ll never, ever forget, he turns and slams out of the bedroom, leaving me in open-mouthed shock on the bed. How did I manage to win him and lose him in the space of five minutes? I thought this was it. We’d finally be together, but I was stupidly naïve, wasn’t I?
I’m sitting there for a good five minutes with tears streaming down my face before I realize Mase’s cell phone is face down in front of me. It must have fallen out of his pocket.
With a frown, I pick it up and swipe a thumb across the screen.
No lock.
A single eyebrow goes up, my curiosity buzzing, and I navigate to the contacts section. Maybe I’ll just delete every single female name I come across. How about that? I’m feeling pretty scorned and depressed at the moment. It might go a long way toward improving my mood. But all I can find are Mikes and Johns and a Gavin.
“All male names,” I murmur after a thorough search. “Not a single female?”
Despite its fracture, my heart starts to pound happily—until I find a contact with no name attached. Who could it belong to? Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit dial.