Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
It’s rare. Precious.
Worth fighting for…
“Yes, oh God, yes,” I cry out as he fits his cock to my entrance and shoves inside me, fast and hard.
And deep…so fucking deep.
I love how he fills every inch of me, until it’s almost too much, until it almost hurts, but doesn’t, because all he has to do is look at me and I’m soaked for him.
“Binx, fuck, baby,” he moans against my neck as he braces one hand on the counter and wraps the other around my waist, holding me tight as he pistons inside me. “I can’t get enough of you. You drive me fucking crazy.”
“Me, too,” I say, arching my back, taking him even deeper.
“Your body, your smell, your taste,” he says, biting the place where my neck meets my shoulder, his teeth digging in deeper as he groans and fucks me harder.
It’s animalistic and raw and gets me going like no quickie I’ve ever had before. The second he slides his hand from my waist to touch my clit, I explode, screaming out my orgasm into the quiet morning air, waves of pleasure stealing my breath away. He continues to grind the heel of his hand against my most electric, sensitive place, as he takes me with increasingly wild thrusts. Soon, I’m sagged against the counter, barely able to stand as I come again.
Seven joins me a second later, his cock jerking inside me as he groans sweet and filthy things about how much he loves coming inside my tight little pussy into my hair.
Afterwards, we remain folded over the counter for a long moment, catching our breath until I feel hot liquid slither down my thigh. “I should grab a paper towel,” I say, reaching for the roll on the other side of the sink with a pleasure-limp arm.
“No, let me,” he says, pressing a final kiss to my shoulder.
Then, he reaches for the paper towels, wets one with a bit of cool water from the sink, and cleans my thighs and the tops of my bandages with a gentle attention to detail that’s every bit as charming as his feral, sex beast side. The fact that he has that inside him, and it coexists so peacefully with his nurturing self, is my personal romantic kryptonite.
If I weren’t in love with him already, I would be by the time he tidies my sensitive sex with tender swipes of the cloth, finishing with a kiss to my ass cheek that makes me smile.
“Thanks for the help,” I say, as he tosses the paper towel in the trash beneath the sink and stands to wrap his arms around me again from behind. “But I should probably pull up my pants.”
“Never,” he says, his hand coming to rest low on my bare stomach, just above where my belly becomes something more intimate. “You don’t need pants. Your pussy told me she enjoys the open air, and being free and ready to fuck me at a moment’s notice.”
I snort. “Oh, she did, did she? What else did she say?”
He hums, and kisses my cheek, making my soul glow a little brighter before he says, “That my cock is her favorite cock.”
“No lies detected,” I murmur, “but there’s one problem with this story.”
“And what’s that?”
“My pussy isn’t a she. She’s a he, and his name is Jerry.”
“Jerry?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, fighting a smile with everything in me. “Jerry. You have a problem with the name Jerry?”
“No, not at all,” he says, playing along. “Just kind of a straight-laced name for a wild little pussy like her—I mean him, excuse me. But who am I to judge?”
“Exactly,” I say, huffing in surprise when Seven gives the patch of hair on my mound a little smack. “What was that for?”
“It was a high five,” he says. “For Jerry. So that he knows I still want to be special friends.”
I bite my lip, nearly losing it. “Yeah? You don’t mind that he’s a boy?”
“Nah, I don’t care. Love is love, right? And what Jerry and I have is too special to be destroyed by something as silly as whether he’s a boy pussy or a girl pussy.”
My smile fading a little, I say, “Well, good. Jerry’s happy to hear that. So am I.”
It’s fun being silly with Seven, but hearing him toss the “L” word around in a joking way is hard to take. The “L” word isn’t a joke for me. I “L” word Seven even more now than I did five minutes ago, and I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse.
By the time Wendy Ann picks us up on Friday morning, I’ll be like one of those lovesick Victorian women who locked themselves up in their crumbling mansions and wasted away from a broken heart.
No, you’re not. We don’t waste away; we rise and fight, a voice whispers in my head as Seven finally allows me to pull up my pants and we get our water bottles ready to go. You still have time.