Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“But you don’t.”
“Your point is? Do you want me to pretend in front of you as well?”
“No. Don’t do that.”
“Good. I wasn’t planning to, baby.” He smiles, but I don’t return it.
My mind is filled with a thousand theories about him. He’s completely different from the Sebastian Weaver I’d painted in my head, and for some reason, I prefer this version a lot more than the fantasy.
Even the imperfections add more to his alluring personality.
He’s different, but he’s unapologetic about it.
He’s different, but he’s not fake.
Not like me.
24
Sebastian
Since we ditched anyway, I take Naomi to my devil’s lair.
Kidding. Just my apartment.
While I love chasing the fuck out of her in the forest, I want to debauch her in all ways possible inside my home.
I watch her inquisitive gaze as she takes in the modern setting of my house. It’s all in gray, black and white. Though, I only saw the world in the two extremes of those colors before her.
Her eyes widen the slightest bit when she watches all her surroundings as if making sure there’s always an exit option. Her distrustful nature is cute, but she needs to get rid of it when around me.
I suppose that would happen with time.
I grab an apple bottle juice from the fridge and toss it to her. She catches it, then we sit together on the sofa across from the TV. I inhale her in, filling my lungs with lily and fucking peaches. It’s become a fix now, a drug I need constant doses of but could still never get enough
“Why did you bring me here?”
“What type of question is that? To fuck the shit out of you, of course.”
A delicate blush covers her cheeks. “Do you have to be crude?”
“Crude is what I do.”
She slurps from her juice and lifts her chin. “I want to watch the newest true crime show first.”
“Are you seriously picking true crime over fucking?”
“Everyone has different priorities,” she teases, struggling to hide her smile, and failing.
“I’m going to have a talk with those serial killers and Netflix for producing them like candy.”
“HBO Max, too. And Hulu.”
“You think this is funny?”
She nods with a huge grin as she reaches to the remote and turns on Netflix. I steal it out of her hand. “We’ll have a bet.”
“You and your bets. What now?”
“Are you a scaredy cat?”
She tips her chin defensively. “No!”
“Then you’ll win this rather easily.”
“Win what?”
“Instead of true crime, we’ll watch a horror movie. If you shriek, close eyes or hide, I win. And that means we’ll go with my ‘fucking the shit out of you’ plan, which includes countless orgasms, by the way. If you do none of those, we’ll watch true crime. One episode, though, then we’ll go back to my plan.”
She laughs, the sound is like fucking music to my ears. I love knowing that she’s a closed off person on the outside but is a mushy girl with me.
Only me.
After she agrees to the bet, I put on The Conjuring. That shit apparently made a few of the cheerleaders cry with horror, as per Owen’s retellings, so I trust it’d work.
I don’t watch it, though. My entire attention stays on her.
She’s still slurping from her juice, but as the time goes by, the straw is there, but she’s gulping her own saliva instead of the juice.
Ominous music from the film fills the room which means there’ll be a spooky scene soon. I slowly reach a hand behind her, keeping it on the sofa. When the jump is about to happen, I touch her shoulder.
Naomi shrieks, jumping up, then hiding her head in my lap as she throws the bottle of juice away. Her chest hits my thigh and I can sense her skyrocketing pulse.
I burst out laughing as I wrap my arm around her back. “You lose, baby.”
“Screw you, okay?” She peeks up at me, making sure to not make eye contact with the screen. “That’s cheating.”
“I call it gaming the system.”
“Asshole.”
“You’re such a scaredy cat for someone who worships at true crime’s shrine.”
“They’re not the same.” She motions at the TV, still hiding. “Can you turn it off?”
“Maybe I want to continue watching it.”
“Sebastian!”
“Yes, baby?”
“Don’t you want to…you know?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you remind me?”
Naomi runs her hand over my dick and although it’s through the material of my pants, it’s like she stroking my bare skin. My erection jumps to life and she takes it as an encouragement to fasten her pace.
I groan, throwing my head against the sofa.
Her touch is still innocent like the first time, but it’s more explorative now, curious. She’s a fast learner, my Naomi.
“Turn it off,” she coos in a breathy tone.
“Are you going to take me at the back of that pretty throat?”
She licks her lips. “If you want.”
“You’ll make me nice and wet for when I will fuck you?”