Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Then he starts to fuck.
God, everything that came before was just an entrée. He gives me the full ten-course meal and more. I grasp him hard with my thighs as he pistons in and out of me like a machine. It feels so good I can’t make any sound and he’s grunting with every thrust, sweat slicking between us wherever our skin is in contact.
“Oh god,” I say, feeling myself climbing higher and higher. Harrison changes the rhythm, backing out nearly all the way and slamming back in. Out, in, out…
…and then I’m coming so hard I almost pass out. I think I must stop breathing because I see stars and my lips stick to my teeth as my mouth opens into a perfect O. He slows down and rides me through it, and I wonder how it feels to have my pussy clamp down so hard on his dick.
“That’s it,” he croons, “that’s it, baby.”
I look up into his beautiful eyes, and I watch as he comes too, seeing the rush of blood to his cheeks and that moment when all his muscles go tense and then relax.
He rests down on me as he collapses, chest heaving like he’s done one of those extreme triathlon competitions. I stare at the ceiling, momentarily stunned that it really happened. I got what I set out for, and now it’s over, I don’t want to think about what happens next. But how can I not? His cock is softening and slipping out. In a minute, he’s going to get up and want to go back to the party. I couldn’t bear an embarrassed goodbye.
I turn to look at his face, wanting to get that last glance of him at peace; like a picture-postcard for the cold nights ahead. When I do, I find him watching me closely with a slightly bemused, slightly concerned expression on his face.
“You okay?” he asks, stroking my cheek tenderly.
“Fuck yeah.” I want to keep up the bravado, but it sounds weak.
“Good,” he says, still stroking. I catch a hitch in his breath, in the way his chest moves against mine, and I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.
Here it comes, I think. Here comes the awkward moment, and I need to get out of here before it happens.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, pushing on his arm slightly.
“Sure.” He reaches between us to keep the condom in place while he pulls out. I feel awkward making myself decent, but he isn’t watching. He’s lying on the rug staring at the ceiling, cupping his dick as if he’s suddenly shy. I push up and stumble onto my feet, legs feeling like jelly, and my fuffie is about as sore as it’s ever been. Just putting my legs together is sweet agony.
“Okay,” I say, not wanting to promise I’ll be back when I’ve no intention of returning.
Harrison is quiet and still.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say again, making my way towards the door that’s separating us from the party. I turn because my heart is beating so fast, knowing this is it. I’m never going to be with Harrison this way again. The thought causes me physical pain; a clenching in my gut and chest. When I catch Harrison’s eye, I see something that looks like regret and my throat burns. I didn’t want this to hurt him. I didn’t want to make him feel used. The whole situation is fucked up. I’m about to turn and run because I have no words when Harrison smiles at me sadly.
“Bye, Princess,” he says.
4
REVELATION
I don’t know how I find the brainpower to get myself home, but I do, managing it partly on bare feet when I finally conceded that my shoes are agonizing and I’m sore enough already without losing toes making my escape.
I get into my room and close the door and lock it and then stand there like one of those Ancient Greek warriors faced with a gorgon. I’ve turned to stone. I want to scream FUCK FUCK FUCK in the loudest voice, but Dad and Lacey are home, and so my terrible expression of utter mortification is instead uttered quietly against the fist I seem to have half-shoved into my mouth.
Oh, my God. He knew. HE KNEW.
My whole body is a big bundle of adrenaline spiked flesh and boneless panic.
He said, princess. It’s the nickname he always uses for me because he knows how much it pisses me off. But did he mean it directly at me because he knew, or does he just throw around that patronizing term of endearment to any girl that crosses his path? I feel sick to my stomach…in fact...
…I dash to my bathroom and only just reach the toilet before I heave. I hate being sick at the best of times, but now I’m shaking and crying because I don’t know what to do. If he knows it was me...if he guessed, then how can we pretend it never happened? I can’t go back to being his stepsister and sitting next to him at dinner, making innocuous family-style conversation. I can’t hear him call me princess again without seeing him lying on that rug, jeans around his thighs and his hand covering up the evidence of what we’d done.