Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Now,” he rasps, his voice low and deep. “Tell me how fuckin’ good I feel.”
“So good,” I whimper, my eyes wanting to roll back, my body wanting to collapse.
“You can do better than that.”
“You feel so fucking good inside of me.”
“How fuckin’ good?” he demands, slamming into me harder.
“God, so good.”
“Say my name.”
“Mykel.”
“Now like you fuckin’ mean it.”
“Mykel,” I scream, not a care in the world. Nobody can hear us out here. It’s just me and him.
“Fuck,” he barks. “Your pussy is so goddamned tight.”
Yes.
Oh, sweet Jesus, yes.
“More,” I beg.
“Fuckin’ sweetest little cunt.”
Oh god.
Oh my god.
Yes.
“I’m going to come,” I tell him, throwing my head back.
He catches my hair in one of his hands and jerks so he can lean down and press his damned mouth to my neck.
I can’t hold back.
I come so hard my knees shake. Mykel slams into me a few more times until he finds his release too, his cock pulsing - I can feel every movement. His mouth remains on my neck, going from hard bites to soft little kisses that make me feel things I don’t want to admit. When he pulls out and steps away, every part of me wishes he’d come back.
I’m getting feelings for him.
Strong feelings.
I’m going to end up hurt, I know it, yet here I am, unable to walk away.
I turn around slowly once he’s done his jeans up, and I fix my own before looking up at him. He reaches over and runs a thumb over my cheek. “You’re flushed.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you get fucked like that.”
He smiles, just a half smile, but it makes my heart swell.
“Now,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face, “are you going to pay attention?”
To him?
In those clothes?
Looking that good?
Unlikely.
“Sure,” I lie.
“Good, now come and stand over here. It’s important you learn how to do this, Waverly. Gotta know you’re safe when we can’t be there to protect you.”
Does he have some sort of feelings for me, too?
I mean, he’s sure acting like he cares more than he used to.
That has to mean something.
“Okay,” I say, walking over and picking up the gun from the broken log we had it resting on. “I’m ready.”
He comes up behind me again, reaching around, and this time I let him without my breath hitching, or my booty pressing into him. I try not to focus on his gorgeous big hands, or the way his biceps feel curled around me. Instead, I focus on the gun. I focus on the way he places my hands on it, the way he shows me how to hold it, how to aim and what not to do.
I take in every single word.
“Now, try and shoot the target without too much thought. When you’re shooting in a heated situation, you’re not getting time to line up a target and make a clean shot. You have to think quickly.”
I nod, and he steps away.
I take a deep breath, and then I aim and shoot, without thought, just like he said. The bullet misses the target, and my heart sinks.
If I’m in trouble, I’m going to die, without a doubt.
I’ll try to shoot someone only to end up being the one who gets shot.
“It’s okay. Try again.”
I do. Over and over.
Eventually, I make the shot. And every time after that, I get a little better.
“You don’t have to hit anything vital—remember that. You just have to be able to get away. Anyone who has been shot, even if it’s just a graze, will be dazed enough for you to run. That’s all you’re aiming for. Go for the biggest part of the human body, the chest. You’re far more unlikely to miss there.”
I nod, swallowing.
Then I practice some more until I’m confident that I could make a shot, albeit a crappy one.
“I think I’ve got it,” I say, turning to face him.
He nods. “Yeah, you’ve got it. That gun is yours for now. Keep it with you. Better if you keep it on you because if you have it in your purse, the chances of getting to it when you need it are slim.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, giving him a grateful smile.
He steps forward and takes my shoulders in his hands, meeting my eyes. “You don’t hesitate, you hear me? You gotta shoot, then you do it. Your life, above anything, is more important than everything else.”
My heart swells.
Maybe, just maybe, he does like me.
Maybe, just maybe, we might have something building here.
14
WAVERLY
“Thank you for coming,” Dax says the moment I walk into his large house.
He’s wearing a suit, looking crisp and clean and professional. It’s a little alarming, seeing him so tidy and calm. It means he’s come up with something, and that can’t be a good thing, because whatever it is, he’s clearly confident about.
“I was worried about you,” I say, and that’s a big fat fucking lie.