Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Slowly at first, letting me adjust, then harder, faster. His hips and cock and the hand that went between my thighs were all demanding, insisting, I give them what they were seeking.
I don’t think I’d ever been driven up quite so quickly before.
It felt like just a few short moments before I was pressed to that edge, was teetering there, about to fall over, to crash down.
“Come for me. Squeeze my cock,” he growled in my ear as he kept thrusting, kept teasing my clit. “Make me yours,” I could have sworn he added, his voice barely more than a whisper.
But something inside of me responded.
And then I was falling and the waves of pleasure were washing over me again and again, until I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, until my legs didn’t seem capable of holding me up anymore.
“Mine,” Way hissed as he slammed deep, coming at the tail-end of my orgasm.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed exactly that way, his arms holding me up since my body refused to cooperate, trying to catch out breaths, trying to come to terms with what had happened.
And what had happened was… I’d let him inside of me… without even seeing if he had protection on.
Oh, God.
I mean, I was on hormones so that I didn’t end up pregnant, but that wasn’t exactly the only thing you had to worry about.
“Baby,” Way’s voice called, soft, sweet, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “Don’t regret me,” he added, making my heart squeeze in my chest.
“I don’t,” I assured him, because I was sure it wasn’t even possible to regret the feelings we’d just shared, the bliss he’d just given me.
“No?” he asked.
“No,” I told him as I felt him reach for my chin, turning it just enough so his lips could brush mine.
“Good,” he told me between soft kisses. “I couldn’t live with that,” he added.
That seemed… dramatic.
And yet something inside of me responded. My belly fluttered. My heart squeezed.
Like it was somehow, I don’t know, right.
Which was what I’d felt in the woods when…
Mine.
“What’s wrong?” Way asked as I suddenly yanked away from him.
I tucked my breasts away before turning to face him, finding that he’d tucked himself away as well.
I knew what he saw reflected in my eyes.
Accusation.
“You lied to me,” I hissed, raking a hand through my hair.
“Maribelle…”
“I didn’t just… I didn’t just run into you. You… we… you did things,” I said, voice choked.
I saw the truth on his face even before he opened his mouth to confirm it.
“Yes.”
“You let me think I had, like, brain damage, that I’d imagined it all. Why would you do that? Who does that!”
I yanked my arm away when he tried to reach out to me, some base, primal part of me knowing that if he touched me, I would lose all rational thought again.
“Let me explain,” he implored.
“You know what? No. No, I don’t think so. Go,” I demanded, waving out toward the yard. “Leave,” I said, trying to put more emphasis into the words.
He tried to take another step toward me, and I must have flinched, because I watched him shrink into himself in response, then turn and do as I demanded.
I swear, as insane as this sounded, each step he took away from me was like a stabbing sensation to the gut.
Not trusting myself not to run to him, to ease the ache, I forced myself inside the cabin, closing, then locking the door.
It wasn’t until I got to the bathroom that I realized tears had filled my eyes and started to spill down my cheeks.
“Stupid. So stupid,” I hissed to my reflection as I wiped the tears away, not entirely understanding their presence.
I mean, yeah, I’d been starting to really like Way. But so what? I’d liked plenty of guys who turned out to be douchebags in the past.
This felt different, though.
It felt like someone had sliced a part of me out.
It made no sense.
I barely knew the guy.
I mean, I didn’t know him at all if he’d been lying to me pretty much since we’d met.
It was stupid to be so upset.
I was just… overly lonely. Isolated. Unsure of my future.
And he’d been nice to me.
I was needy enough that I didn’t seem to require anything other than that.
“Pathetic,” I told my reflection before I turned, stripped out of my nightgown, and climbed in the tub, letting the frigid water wash over me as punishment while I scrubbed mercilessly at my skin.
Like I could wash away the feel of him.
It was unsuccessful.
And, somehow, the time only seemed to amplify the sadness and strange feeling of incompleteness that had been there since he’d walked away.
I tried to get some things done inside the house, to distract myself, to think of literally anything else.
Unsuccessful, I climbed into bed, pulled the cover over my head, and slept.