Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Her body wants me even if her mind doesn’t. Slipping a finger inside her, I find her wet and ready.
I can’t help but smirk as I withdraw my finger once more and move to settle between her legs. My gaze moves between her thighs, and I almost growl while I line my cock up with her entrance. I can’t wait to be inside her, to take her innocence and claim it as my own.
I work my way inside her slowly even though every fiber in my body screams for me to bottom out in one hard thrust, showing her who owns her and who she belongs to.
When I feel the resistance of her virginity giving way, her whole body tightens with a gasp, and her hands wrap around my biceps. I’m not sure if she’s trying to push me away or pulling me in closer, but I don’t mind the way her nails are digging into my skin. I welcome the pain because physical pain is always better than the alternative.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I hiss. “Relax a bit.”
“You try to relax when something way too big is shoved up inside you,” she snaps, making me chuckle.
“Is that your way of trying to tell me I have a big dick?”
“I hate you, and I hate this.”
Dropping my head into the crook of her neck, I whisper into the shell of her ear, “Liar.”
“Ugh,” she grunts, digging her sharp nails deeper into my arms. “It fucking hurts.”
“It will feel better next time.” The reminder of the next time has all the different ways I’m going to fuck her running through my mind. Bent over the bed, taking her from behind, her riding my cock while I play with her tits, maybe while I finger her ass…
She whimpers, and I realize I’ve picked up speed in my excitement. I should probably slow down, but it feels so fucking good. How does she feel like this? Like she was made for me.
I could stay buried inside her forever, but I know she is actually hurting, and contrary to what she believes, I don’t care for causing her physical pain. Luckily for her, it doesn’t take long before I can feel the tingle at the base of my spine.
I thrust deep inside her a few more times before my balls tighten, and I explode. My orgasm seems to go on forever, and by the time I come down from my high, I’m almost passed out again.
“Do you know how heavy you are?” Aspen’s labored voice meets my ear, and only then do I realize I’ve let my entire weight settle on her small body.
I quickly push myself off the bed, slipping out of her cunt, making us both wince. Getting up from the bed a little too fast, I make a note to drink a shit load of water today when the room spins.
After the dizzy spell passes, I look down at the bed. Aspen hasn’t moved. She is on her back with her legs spread, giving me a prime view of her swollen pussy that’s leaking a mixture of my cum and her blood, both a reminder of what I just took from her and the fact that I didn’t use a condom. Aspen must be reading my mind.
“Oh, god, you didn’t use a condom!” She sits up, looking between her legs, then glaring up at me.
“Calm down. They tested everyone for diseases before we got here. We’re both clean. Don’t get up. I’m getting a washcloth.” I turn to walk into her attached bathroom when she yells something at my back I wasn’t prepared for.
“Quinton, I’m not on the pill!”
I stop dead in my tracks, my whole body freezing as her words slowly start to sink in. Fuck, how could I have been so careless?
“Did you hear me? I’m not on the pill. You can’t come inside me. What if you get me pregnant?”
Pregnant…
That single word runs on an endless loop in the back of my mind as my limbs begin to unfreeze, and I’m able to make my way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, I remember the thing is broken, but when I turn to the shower, there are a bunch of her clothes hanging out to dry. I slide some of the odd-smelling shirts to the side so I can reach into the shower stall and turn it on. I grab the washcloth and soak it in warm water before turning the shower off.
When I return to the room, Aspen hasn’t moved. Her eyes follow every move I make. Carefully, I wipe between her legs with the wet washcloth, watching as the white fabric turns pink.
“Did you hear—”
“I heard you,” I snap.
I don’t know why I’m getting angry with her. This is on me. “Why is your stuff hung up in the bathroom, and why does it smell funny?” I ask, trying to change the subject.