Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The very tip of him enters me and I whimper. It hurts a little, but my entrance is so slick from his saliva that it might just be the shock of it. My breath hitches as another tear escapes me. He sighs behind me, and gripping my hands at my back in his, he leans forward and it pushes his cock a little further inside me. It stings and my eyes close, brows bunched in pain.
He whispers, “If you don’t want this to hurt as much as it could, you need to push down and out. Now.”
As soon as he finishes speaking, he slowly pushes in, and doing as I’m told, I push out and back into him. The balls of his piercing go in without issue. My stomach coils with sensations. I’ve never felt so full before. It doesn’t hurt, just stings a little. He stills a moment, breathing heavily. With his free hand, he strokes my hair and says gently, “Good girl.”
Not a minute passes before he releases my hands to grip my upper arms behind my back tightly. He murmurs, “Hold on, baby.”
And then it starts.
He pushes as deep as he can once, pulls out a little, then thrusts into me. White spots blur my vision.
Driving into me with a steady pace, all I can do is hold on as I’m ridden. I’m so confused by the sensations. It feels amazing. But then, everything with Twitch feels amazing.
The edge of the desk works my clit with every thrust, and almost out of nowhere, I feel myself tighten as my breath heaves. I clench around him and he groans, “Fuck, Angel. Do it. Let go.”
Unable to hold it any longer, I let go.
My body goes rigid and I feel as though I’m falling. Off the highest mountain. Into an ocean of pure ecstasy.
I pulse with every thrust, and bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out.
Just as quickly as it comes, it’s gone. I’m left limp, resenting the person I’m being ridden by.
How does he do it? I’m so easily manipulated by him.
Eyes stinging, I close my eyes tightly, embarrassed by my want of him. Crying silently into the desk, my anger rises.
Suddenly, he stills. Groaning, warmth fills my behind and I bite my lip to stop myself from sobbing.
A moment later, he gently pulls out of me, handing me a bunch of tissue. Without asking, I hold the tissue where I’m likely to drip from, and walk over to his personal bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Taking my time to clean myself, once finished, I lower the lid on the toilet and sit a while.
Sniffling, I dab at my eyes and wonder why this man is doing this to me. My life was good before I met him. Now it’s chaos. And what’s worse is I’m letting it happen.
My mind throws a word out to me that I bury deep.
And although I don’t want it to be true, I know in my heart that for some fucked up reason, I want Twitch, regardless of how damaged he is.
I came here today to find some form of clarity.
Sometimes, when you look close enough at a person hoping to find said clarity, the image of that person becomes so hazy, so distorted, that all you’re left with is unclear thoughts and more questions.
This is what happens when I try to understand Twitch.
There is little to no predictability with this man. I know he is damaged. I know he is complicated. But I can’t help but wonder what would happen to him if I deserted him. But that’s just a thought.
A stupid one.
I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him.
He needs me.
You need him.
He needs me more. And I’ll be there for him.
Nodding at my internal pep talk, I make my way out of the bathroom to find Twitch back behind his desk, typing away as if nothing happened. I open my mouth to speak, when he utters, “Like I said, I’m busy. Next time, make an appointment.”
I stand there in complete silence. My heart cracks.
Was I just dismissed?
The more I stand there, the more my anger builds. Just when I tell myself to turn, leave, and never come back, I shriek unexpectedly, “God, you are such a fuck up!”
“God, you are such a fuck up!”
My head snaps up, brows knitting. She pauses, panting, then, “And I hate myself for loving you.”
What did she just say?
Her lips quiver and she chokes out, “Because I can’t give up on you.”
A single tear trails down her cheek.
Hold up. Back up. What did she just say?
Lexi loves me? Since when?
Standing slowly, I make my way over to her, searching her tearful face. When we’re almost toe-to-toe, I lift my hand to brush her cheek. But she flinches.
And it guts me.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek.