Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I held onto the handle with both hands, moaning when he didn’t waste time with foreplay and shoved straight inside.
I screamed, which happened to be into his hand, when he quickly covered my mouth as he thrust hard inside.
I saw stars.
Literal stars.
My eyes squeezed tightly shut as I tried to adjust to his size.
I’d forgotten.
How had I forgotten?
His size had always been something that surprised me, no matter how much we made love.
He was rather large, and there was always a lot of foreplay to get me as open and ready as I could be before he penetrated my pussy.
But this time, there was no preparation. No leading up to it. No nothing.
One second, he was on the outside, and the next I was so full I felt like I was about to split right in half.
But the weird thing was, it was a good feeling.
A great feeling, actually.
One of those moments in your life when you knew that this should be a bad thing, that you might have pain from it later, yet you did it anyway because it felt so right.
Then he started pumping, forcing his fat cock into me with such deep strokes that I couldn’t help but let out a small scream each time he entered me.
He cursed and curled over me, his mouth right next to my ear as he grunted with each slam of his hips.
I was coming then, unable to stop myself.
It’d been so long.
And he felt so right.
No buildup. No signs whatsoever.
Just one second, I was fine and the next I was breaking apart with him inside of me.
The feel of him so deep made the orgasm that rocketed through me feel like a life-altering moment.
I’d felt great orgasms before.
He’d been the one to give them to me.
But feeling them when you’re ready, and feeling them when you’re not, are two altogether different things.
My breasts had an iron band surrounding them, and then I was finding it hard to breathe.
I didn’t know if it was due to the way he was holding me, the way my orgasm had hit me so hard, or because there was very little oxygen in a supply closet with two heavily breathing people.
Whatever it was, I knew that I wouldn’t be okay after this.
He’d broken me, yet again, and I was kind of happy about it.
He grunted, and I felt the warm splash of his cum paint the inside of my pussy.
That’s when I realized that we’d gone ungloved and unprotected, but the thoughts went through my brain like wings of a butterfly.
One second, they were there, the next they were gone, an altogether different emotion—one even stronger than the thought of STDs or pregnancy—filled me.
Longing.
I missed this. Missed him. Missed the way he made me feel.
Then he had to go and ruin everything.
“God, I fucking hate you,” he breathed against my neck.
The instant feeling of sickness raced through my veins at his words.
We’d just had, arguably, the best sex of our entire time together, and he ended it with that?
I pushed him away, feeling him slip out of my sex, and instantly felt the ire rise in my veins.
There were only eight people in this entire world—alive anyway—that could make me get angry like that. And he was one of them.
“Nobody told you to fuck me, Felix Alexander Kent!” I all but spat. “Next time you feel your frustration with me get too much, how about you go fuck your best friend who is in love with you.”
Felix blinked, surprised to hear those words come out of my mouth.
“She’s not in love with me,” he replied, tucking himself back inside his scrub pants.
Was he stupid? Did he not see?
Hell, he didn’t even have to see. He just had to pay attention.
I snorted. “So we can now add asshole and delusional to your list of attributes.”
I yanked my pants up, uncaring of the wetness that I could feel seeping out from between my legs, and roughly tied the stupid drawstring so they didn’t fall off when I made my run for it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding surprised that I was leaving.
What, did he expect me to stay after that display of affection?
What a fucking joke.
I glared at him. “What do you care?”
He opened his mouth, then swiftly closed it, unsure what to say.
Well, he didn’t need to say anything. He’d said enough in the last ten minutes with just five words than he’d said for our entire relationship.
Well, joke was on him, because this was exactly what I needed.
Him telling me how he really felt.
And fuck my life, but the next three years were going to suck.
As might be expected, when I yanked open the door to the supply closet—of course it had to be a supply closet, how cliché could we be?—I ran straight into Tammy.