Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Goddamnit,” I snarl, picking up my phone again, ready to make another call. Should I go out and try to find her? Right, then what happens if she comes home and wonders where I am?
I’m maybe a split second from calling her when a text comes through. My heart jumps into my throat—it’s her. It has to be. Finally getting back to me.
It isn’t. It came from an unknown number.
Watch out. You’re not taking care of her like you’re supposed to.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It doesn’t matter how many times I read it—it never makes more sense. Who would send me something like this?
Who is this? I type back, pounding my thumbs against the screen. I’m still waiting for a response when the front door opens.
I don’t know what’s stronger: my relief or the anger that’s had nowhere to go and has only gotten stronger in the hour I’ve spent waiting. “Why the hell were you gone for so long?” I snap, making her flinch. Maybe not the best thing I could’ve said right away, but goddamnit, I’m tired of fucking around.
She closes the door with her head down, not even bothering to look at me before she hurries down the hall into the bathroom. Before she can close the door, though, I shove it open and stay in the doorway.
“I’m talking to you. Where have you been? Since when can’t you answer your phone when I call?”
“I took a walk. That’s all. This doesn’t have to be a huge deal, you know?” As I watch, she almost frantically washes her hands. The water is hot enough that steam starts rising from the basin before she turns off the faucet, only to pull out her toothbrush and turn on the water again to wet it.
“You took a walk. That’s all? You’ve been gone for an hour.”
“It was a long walk.” She brushes her teeth just as thoroughly as she washed her hands, the brush moving fast.
“Are you trying to knock your teeth out of your mouth?” I may as well not be here. She’s in her own world, and something is between us. Something I can’t see or touch, which only makes me more determined to get it out of my way.
She’s rinsing her mouth when I come up behind her, smelling the fresh night air in her hair, feeling the warmth of her body. “You can’t even look at me? Much less kiss me.” That’s usually the first thing she wants to do when she walks in the door, like she can’t wait. “I try to do something for you, something I think you’ll like, and you won’t even look at me now.”
“This isn’t about that. I wasn’t even thinking about it.” She groans softly when I take hold of her hips, but it’s not the kind of groan I was going for. More like she’s… dismayed? “Please, just give me a minute, okay?”
Just give her a minute. One more thing I’m supposed to understand with no explanation. Maybe I would understand if she would bother telling me something every once in a while instead of acting like I don’t deserve to know what’s going on in her head. Because I’m not good enough, and I never will be.
“Maybe I don’t want to give you a minute.” My grip tightens, and my dick starts to get hard, pressing against her plump ass. “Maybe it’s time for me to get what I want. What do you think about that?” My mouth touches her neck, and she goes stiff, trembling—but isn’t that the way it always is? She’ll loosen up. She’ll remember why we’re together, how much she wants this. She always does in the end.
“Just let me… please…” I can barely hear her whimpering over the rush of blood in my ears, the drumbeat of my heart.
It doesn’t take much to pull her jeans down over her ass so my hands can cup her flesh, squeezing and molding it in my hands, getting harder every second. She’s wearing a lacy pink thong that I tug gently, playing with her, staring down at her creamy skin.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” With a hand between us, I cover her mound, pressing against her slit through the lacy fabric, feeling where it’s hot and already moist because this is the one thing we can always come back to. The two of us. When I yank down the thong hard enough for the seam to tear, she gasps and trembles, and that’s good, too. Yes, it’s time to get what I want.
“Let’s see how wet you already are.” Dragging a thumb through her slit, I find her a little drier than I expected, but it’s nothing a little spit can’t fix. It dribbles down her crack and into her pussy while I drop my jeans and let them settle at my ankles. I’m rigid, straining, and my spit plus the precum dribbling from my tip lets me slide easily through her folds.