Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
On my coffee table sat her old, raggedy looking shoes. Those stupid Converses were the cutest things I’d ever seen on her feet. I’d always hated Converse sneakers. Always. They were useless for anything but casual wearing. I couldn’t go hiking in them because they didn’t protect my feet from sharp rocks. I couldn’t wear them in the rain since they didn’t shield my feet from the wet. And wearing them in the cold? That was just plain stupid. They offered absolutely zero protection from that.
But on her? She pulled them off, and they didn’t make me want to throw them away like they had when my sister had worn them.
Her computer—which had half a million stickers on it—sat on the couch next to her. What looked like code was pulled up on the screen, but without moving closer, I couldn’t tell for sure due to the glare on the screen.
She was wearing a sweatshirt—which I might add was mine—that completely engulfed her small frame. Her shorts were so short that they were tucked up under the sweatshirt, making it look like she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
And those goddamn toes of hers were painted neon green and highlighter-fucking-yellow. They alternated in a pattern, and they were so freakin’ cute that I realized that I might very well be delusional.
What the hell was it about Janie that had me thinking everything about her was so fucking cute?
Because she is cute, dumbass.
My inner monologue wasn’t appreciated at this moment in time, so I moved farther into the room and walked up to where Janie was still reaching for the remote.
Once within reach, I bent down, picked it up and then held it out to her.
She gasped, surprised to see me standing there, and growled.
“You scared the shit out of me!” she hissed, falling back on the couch and slapping her hand over her chest as if to help calm her heart.
“I wasn’t quiet when I came inside,” I pointed out. “What are you doing here?”
Janie grinned. “You know why I’m here.”
“I know why you told me you were here,” I countered. “But why are you really here?”
Because if she even hinted it was because of that kiss right now, I would rip that sweatshirt from her body, tie her to the chair with it, and then I’d fuck the absolute hell out of her.
Janie bit her lip, and I realized that I was going to have to go for it.
This thing between us was unreal, and it wasn’t going away.
I’d have to fuck her.
Then, after I fucked her, maybe I could control myself.
Maybe what we had going on wasn’t as explosive as I thought it was.
Maybe, just maybe, I was fucking crazy, and it was all some sort of irrational reaction.
Maybe we could get each other out of our systems.
“Because of the kiss.”
And there it was.
I moved.
The pie moved with me and fell in my haste to get to her. It fell, catching the lip of the coffee table on its way down, scattering bits, globs and pieces everywhere.
It didn’t matter. I’d clean it up later.
Or maybe I would bring the Shop Vac in here and suck it up.
Whatever. I didn’t fucking care.
I lunged toward the couch, and Janie gasped in surprise.
She didn’t hesitate when I lifted the sweatshirt from her body.
Her limp, wet hair fell against her skin of her back, causing her to shiver.
Let her be cold.
It’d only make her nipples harder.
“Stand up,” I ordered.
Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were wide.
But she stood up.
I don’t know if she sensed my instability or what, because she didn’t make a move. She didn’t so much as twitch her lips.
“Go to the coffee table and lay down,” I rasped. “On your back.”
She looked down at the coffee table where half of the pie was in a puddle, making a dripping mess as it spilled over the sides, but didn’t so much as hesitate.
“Do you want my shorts off first?” she asked as she took a step.
I grinned—this grin was as fucking real as it got with me—and shook my head. “No.”
She went to the coffee table and laid down, then spread her legs so that they were on either side of the table, her toes mere inches from the floor.
I walked to her and looked down at her.
“Don’t move.”
She licked her lips. “Yes, sir.”
Something about her calling me ‘sir’ felt so goddamn right that my dick hardened to full mast in my pants. If any more blood made its way to my engorged cock, it’d literally burst.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocket knife. It was an Old Timer. Ugly and yellow.
I’d found it in the street when I was eleven, and I had carried it with me ever since.
I’d never once been more grateful that I’d decided to always have it with me than I was right then as I took the knife to Janie’s shorts and cut them at the seams.