Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
But it’s gone now.
It’s gone now, so I offer no resistance when Everett growls like a wild animal and throws my legs up over his shoulders, slamming into me so hard I have to reach back and hold the headboard or be thrown from the bed.
I can’t hold all of myself back.
Didn’t he say that?
Well he definitely listened. I barely recognize this man with his bared teeth and lust-laden eyes. He isn’t my stern, reserved coach anymore. He’s a man lost in pain and pleasure. Lost in me. He is chanting my name over and over again like a mantra, his hand wrapping around my throat, his tongue licking me anywhere it can reach.
My breasts, my shoulders, my face.
Is it possible he’s growing larger inside of me? It certainly feels like it and my abused flesh is sore and aroused at the same time. Taking him.
“You have no idea how bad I’ve needed this,” he rasps, gradually tightening his hold on my throat. “So bad I pace my living room stabbing the fucking walls. Just imagining this pussy. Just imagining you flat on your back taking this cock.” He squeezes and I see spots and I should be alarmed, but I’m not. I’m not. I love his possession of me. I love his sexual anger at me. And more than anything, I trust him with my whole soul. “Tell me you fucking love it. Tell me you lie in your sheets with the little daisies on them and get wet for coach. Wet for Daddy.”
“I get so wet,” I murmur, truthfully, because I did. Night after night. Dreaming of him. “I never know what to do about it.”
“Now you know, sweetheart. You spread your legs and show me that slick young pussy and I take care of the rest. Isn’t that right?” He releases my neck long enough to let me suck in a breath, then immediately clamps his grip down there again. And my womanhood begins to throb in that promising way, clenching and flexing around his invading shaft. I like him deciding when I breathe. I like him being in charge of everything. I’m just a little girl. I don’t know any better.
“Daddy,” I wail, working my hips as fast as I can to meet his drives. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The words are out before I can stop them and if I thought my orgasm released tension, it’s nothing compared to the knot that loosens in my chest after making the admission. As if it’s been sitting there like a ten-ton boulder.
“Oh fuck!” Everett jolts violently, his seed flooding into my body and I go with him, my muscles spasming at the juncture of my thighs, bright light bleeding into the edges of my vision. He flattens me, growling, grunting, grinding up into me with that large appendage, as if wanting to feed his seed into the deepest recesses of my body. “I love you, too. This mad man loves you. Feel it in every single drop. Look into my eyes and see it.” He is pressed forward, bending me in half with his strong upper body, having maneuvered me like a doll, his hips driving and driving and driving, an unstoppable male machine. “I love you in ways that will get me arrested. I’m a sick fuck over this pussy. Over your face and wrists and ass and voice and smell. I’m sick.”
“I’ll be sick with you,” I whisper, holding him when he finally collapses with a groan, his hot, shallow breaths bathing my neck. “I’ll be sick for you.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, so low I can barely hear him.
But then it doesn’t matter because Everett rolls off me onto his side and gathers me close in his arms, planting endless kisses on my forehead until I fall asleep, secure in the fact that he views me as a woman now. That he loves me. We’re together and nothing can break us apart.
Chapter 6
Everett
Taking Margot to bed has ruined me.
I’m ruined.
Standing at the side of the pool, clipboard in hand, I can hear none of the noise in the massive swimming facility. None of it. All I can hear is the sound of Margot’s heartbeat as she sleeps. Steady and healthy. I hear the squeaking of the bed springs, the slap of flesh, Margot calling out in that breathy, strangled tone she uses when my hand is around her slender throat.
It’s the day of the competition and I can’t think straight. I look down at my clipboard and see nothing but pencil markings in odd shapes. No letters. No plans that make sense. Everything in my life besides her feels irrelevant now. There’s only Margot. There’s only her inhales and exhales and every precious hair on her head. I thought my obsession was at its fever pitch, but I was wrong. This is a fever pitch. I’m living in a trancelike state, oblivious to everything but the need to be burrowed inside of her tight pussy again, to be held in her arms, to count her freckles and tip a glass of orange juice to her lips.