Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Did we—? What did we just do?
Tangled around his ring-clad fingers, my hair is pulled, forcing my head down. Forcing me to kneel on the ground.
“Suck me,” he rasps, dragging his knuckles across my cheek as he gazes down at me.
Grasping his stiff, damp cock in my hand, I take him into my mouth and lick and suck him like I’ve done this a hundred times before—which I haven’t. He tastes salty and metallic, a cocktail of us. If memories had a flavor, ours would be salt and blood. It’s disgusting and beautiful, and I lose my mind. This man is a drug and I’m an addict. I’m high on him and us, lost in the twirling world around me, every smell, sight, and touch heightened and vivid and so incredibly disconnected and hazy.
Maybe he slipped me a roofie when he kissed me. Maybe he had something on his tongue and now I’m high as a kite. Or maybe this is all just a crazy-ass sex dream and I’m going to wake up next to Archie the cat any moment with Titanic playing in the background.
I gag on the cock slamming into my tonsils.
Nope. This isn’t a dream. I’m choking on a stranger’s dick.
This isn’t me. This isn’t me. This isn’t me.
“Piper….” Grabbing the back of my head, he breathes out my name as hot cum propels down my throat. I swallow him and he slowly pulls out, skimming over my lips. I wipe my wet mouth with the back of one hand while my other clenches the side of his leg.
He helps me to my feet before zipping himself back into his jeans, and I avoid any eye contact, attempting to straighten my skirt over my bare ass. My panties, my favorite pair with the pretty lace trim, are lost somewhere on the ground.
As I try to focus in the dark, Evan leans down to capture my mouth with his, but I quickly turn my face away, escaping the kiss. My mouth no longer feels like my own. My lips are numb, my tongue tingly, my throat burning.
“I have to go.” My voice shakes as I shiver uncontrollably and step away from him, tripping over my purse as I do so. I don’t even remember dropping it. Nor do I remember the misty rain stopping. I quickly snatch up my purse and throw the strap over my shoulder.
“I-I have to go,” I repeat and sprint through the foggy darkness in the direction I came from, running my hand along the damp stone until I find the end of the bridge, ignoring his voice calling after me.
On my hands and knees I crawl up the hill and let out a sob of relief when I finally reach the asphalt path. My heels clack as I practically run toward the safety of the wrought-iron gates. The shape of my bench appears under one of the lamps, and I’m suddenly overcome with nausea.
Clutching my stomach, I run to the garbage can I’ve thrown my lunch into every day for months and vomit into it, my horrible retching echoing around me. Using the garbage can for balance, I fish in my purse for a mint and suck wildly on it before I continue to walk toward my car. The taste of vomit and sex in my mouth is overpowering, an acrid poison I will never forget.
I drive home like a certified lunatic. An endless stream of tears flow down my cheeks and I’m shocked I don’t crash into something or get pulled over for speeding and driving erratically. When I reach my driveway, I’m relieved to see all the lights in the house are off except for the front porch, signaling they’ve all gone to bed.
Thank God.
Even with the heat in my car blasting, I shivered all the way home, and I’m still shaking when I let myself in the house and quietly go down to my room. Ignoring Archie’s stare from beside his half-empty food dish, I toss my purse onto the couch, kick off my shoes, and make a beeline for the bathroom. I lock the door behind me.
The reflection in the mirror above the sink nearly makes me puke again.
I blink at the girl there as she stares back at me. I have no idea who she is. She’s a mess, breathing heavy with her mouth partially open. Her hair is damp and looks as if she was recently electrocuted or is channeling Cher. The charcoal eyeliner and mascara she spent fifteen minutes perfecting this morning are now smeared under her puffy eyes and across her pale cheeks. Her lips are abnormally red and swollen, the corners of her mouth slightly cracked.
From sucking dick.
Trembling, I take a deep breath and try to get my shit together.
Half an hour ago, two of the most intimate parts of my body were stretched around a huge cock, and now there’s dried cum on my chin and in my hair. My gaze drifts down to the blotchy red marks on my neck as memories of his lips, teeth, and hands biting, sucking, and gripping me sends another wave of odd euphoria through me.