Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
One of my hands skates down my torso. A shiver races through my nervous system as I make my way to my center. The insides of my thighs quiver, all too aware of the orgasm I’m chasing. I watch the entire show of one in the mirror, hoping one day, a man will be behind me, using his hands on my body instead of my own. I graze my clit with the tip of my finger, and my hand working my breast moves to the vanity counter for purchase. I’m on a hairpin trigger, and I’ve barely started.
“Jesus, Carsynn,” I rasp out loud. The humidity from the hot running water starts to steam up the mirror. My breathing becomes more labored as I slide two fingers inside my wet heat before going back to my clit. I’m careful to never push too deeply. I may be a virgin, but I don’t want to be the one to take that from myself. One day, I’ll have the courage enough to put myself out there, and it’ll be a man who takes me with his cock and not my fingers. I lose my grip on the counter. Thankfully, my forearm holds me up as my head meets the same demise. Trying to hold myself up was futile. My fingers work my clit, clockwise and counterclockwise, as I think of the handsome duke in my book using his mouth on his wife, how she comes all over his face, and how he continues to tongue-fuck her the entire time through her orgasm. I want that, God, do I want to know what that sheer uninhibited bliss feels like, and not by my own hands. I clench my eyes closed. Stars burst behind my lids, and my orgasm takes over. A cold chill coats my body, which makes my fuzzy mind snap back to reality. The bathroom is hot, and the tub is nearly full. I quickly turn the faucet off, make sure my fluffy robe is within reaching distance as well as my book, and then I sink into the hot-as-fuck water. All while wondering what else my latest book boyfriend is capable of doing to his no-longer virgin wife.
4
GABE
I step out of the tow truck I parked in my grandfather’s driveway. Why he insists on living on his own is beyond me, but the man is unwavering in his independence. It would have been nice if he’d have taken me up on living closer to me, except Grandpa Bernie never wants to be a burden on anyone. Once, I’d like him to realize I want to be there for him like he’s been there for me my whole damn life.
“About time you get your tail home, boyo.” The stretch I was after comes to a screeching halt when Bernie opens the screen door and I’m greeted by the old man who always gives me shit. I should have known he wouldn’t keep himself inside where it’s warm. Oh no, he chose to stand in the open door, letting all the warm air out of the house. The man doesn’t have so much as a pair of shoes on his feet.
“Get inside and shut the door,” I throw back at him, neither of us bothering with pleasantries. It’s how we communicate our love for one another. I shut the door to my tow truck, pocket my keys, and make my way up the driveway.
“Oh hush, you act like I’m going to wither away from a little cold weather,” he retorts, doing the exact opposite of what I’d like him to do. There’s no changing his mind. No amount of lecturing will change his mind, and so I double-step it, my long strides eating up the distance between us. I worry about him. He’s not getting any younger, and he’s all I’ve got left in this world besides a few friends and the nosey townspeople. Grandpa Bernie is spry and sharp as a tack. He still cooks, cleans, and drives around town. There’s nothing wrong with him for the most part. He’s on cholesterol medicine and could probably control more of it if he weren’t at The Sunshine Diner five days a week. They do watch his heart since it likes to be a slow ticker at times. Ten or so years ago, he needed a pacemaker. We didn’t see it coming. One minute he’s talking, the next he was slumping over. A short stay at the hospital, and he was good to go.
“I hear pneumonia isn’t any fun, unless you like to flirt with the nurses in the hospital.” I wink. Grandpa may be old, but he’s not dead, and he’s a shameless flirt. The last time he was at the doctor for routine testing, he tried to get a nurse's number. She batted her eyes and let him down easy. Apparently, the ring on her finger wasn’t a deterrent. Smooth-talking Bernie was out in full effect.