Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“I did. Harvard.”
“Wow,” she says with a gasp. She has an ice cube between her straight white teeth and I shiver when she bites down on it. I’m mesmerized by her mouth. The things I want to do to it…
“So, you must have a ton of student loans,” she says, continuing to ramble on nervously. “Oh, no. You’re rich. I mean, I’m assuming you have a lot of money. Is that rude to say? How much money do you have?”
I can’t help but grin as I watch her.
“I’m nervous,” she continues as she starts fanning her face. “I’m hot. Are you hot? Do these windows open?”
She starts hitting every button she can see, which turns on the speakers, then the strobe lights, then the intercom.
“Can I help you?” the driver asks over the speaker.
“No,” I grunt and then turn it off. I know it’s his job, but I don’t like anyone taking up my time with Arya. She’s mine alone tonight.
“Up here,” I say as I hit the button for the sunroof. Her innocent youthful face lights up when she sees the tall New York skyscrapers through the opening in the roof.
“I’ve always wanted to do this!” she squeals in delight as she jumps up.
I’m light-headed as I watch her enthusiasm and lust for life.
I can feel my obsession with this angel growing with every second I breathe in her scent. It’s already taking over my body. It’s conquering my thoughts. It’s dominating my every breath. It’s consuming me whole.
The top half of her disappears through the sunroof, but I don’t mind. Her perfect ass is right in my face.
It takes everything I have not to bury my face in it. I take one slow breath after another, trying to remain steady and trying to calm the beast growing inside of me. The beast that wants to devour this tempting girl alive.
I hear her hollering and shouting hello to people as my hands grip her bare calves, like I’m holding her for safety in case she falls. God, her skin is so soft and I know it’s just going to get softer the higher I go up.
I can’t seem to stop myself. This girl is testing every bit of strength and restraint that I have. I can feel my resolve stretching to the breaking point.
When my hands slide up to her knees, my restraint cracks. My cock is throbbing in my pants. I’m so wet with pre-come. I’ve already made a wet mess that I want her to clean up with that sexy mouth I’ve been admiring.
I slide my hand up another inch and my breathing stops. Her silky red dress is bunched up on my wrists as she turns around to wave to someone on the other side of the street.
Her pussy is an inch in front of my face and I inhale deeply so I can smell her. But I can’t. There are too many layers between us. The intense longing and need to rip every shred of her clothing off and bury my face between her legs cuts through me and makes me groan.
“That was amazing!” she says as she climbs back down with a smile on my face that makes my heart swell two sizes too big for my chest.
I can’t physically take my hand away from her thigh, so I just keep touching her soft milky skin as she sits back down beside me. She has a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.
Her dress is hiked up her legs and she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even seem to notice that I have a possessive palm on the inside of her thigh.
My jaw is clenched tight. My balls are achingly full of come and desperately need some release. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the night in public with this girl.
I didn’t want to go to the party in the first place, but now, I really don’t want to go. I want to head straight to my place, get this girl naked, and maul her ripe body.
“We should practice getting comfortable as boyfriend and girlfriend,” she says as she rests her hand on my wrist. She doesn’t try to move it or anything, so I just leave my hand there where it feels so right. “Should we be holding hands all night?”
“I would never stop touching you if you were my girl,” I say.
She glances down at my hand on her leg and swallows hard. “I can see that,” she whispers. “Your girl would be a lucky one.”
She finishes the last sip of her drink as I study her gorgeous face. Her light brown hair falls in curls around her jaw and the sight is better than any painting I’ve ever seen or any photograph I’ve come across. She was made for the big screen. She was made for me.