Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
The man that has been my father for a decade.
Pleasure jolts inside of me at the depravity and I lift my hips to ride out his every stroke. I score his shoulders with my fingernails as the sound of our wet bodies slapping together fills the small room and I want this to go on forever.
I want to be filled by him. I want to feed him and watch him as he nurses from my breasts. I want to taste every part of him and—and—
“Oh my God.” I choke as Eli humps and pumps harder and faster until I’m a speck of dust under his forceful frame.
His mouth finds mine as I scream out. The bliss blinding me and flooding me with a calm and floating feeling that seems to go on forever.
“You please me,” Eli grunts as he grows inside me. “I’m going to fill you, baby. Good girls take all the cream and say thank you after.”
Three more thrusts and I’m spinning again as Eli roars to the rafters. Waves of pleasure evoke curse words I’ve never said as he pounds out his final blows deep and hot as his cum coats my narrow walls.
I’m boneless when I start to come around, feeling my body being manipulated onto all fours.
“Stay still,” he says as he moves around on the straw, then I hear it.
Pump, shhh, pump, shhh, pump…
“Ow!” The first contact of the milking machine on my breast sends a jolt of erotic pain down my back and into my my toes.
“Shhh. Be good. You’re a good little cow and you’re going to get your milk pumped while I mount you from behind. Just stay still.”
The machine draws deep on my nipples as Eli tugs my ass up and pins my knees wide.
“Good girl. It’s breeding time.”
CHAPTER 7
Ruby
The drive here was awkward.
Marcy was eyeing up Uncle Eli like he was a prime steak—I could practically see drool trailing down her chin—and he growled and muttered words I couldn’t make out as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.
And I did what I do best. I sat and said nothing.
“She’s pregnant. Fucking deal with it, Barry.” Eli huffs and shakes his head as he backs Marcy’s father into his own kitchen with a finger jabbing into his chest. Anyone would think this was Eli’s kitchen. “You know who the fucking father is. Everyone does. And perhaps if you gave these kids some support instead of running your mouth off at David every chance you get he’d step up and—”
“I’ll raise my daughter how I fucking choose, mouse, so get the fuck—”
“Barry! I expect that sort of language from a Neanderthal like Eli, but not—”
Both men turn in unison to Marcy’s mom. “Stay out of this!”
“This is between men,” Barry says, his nostrils flaring.
“Nice, Dad!” Marcy puts her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Very mature!”
Eli sets his jaw, looking around at all of them, and draws a deep breath through his nose. “You know what, Barry? You’re right. This is your fucking family, you fucking deal with them.” He strides past them all, takes my arm and starts us moving for the door. “Come on, we’re going.”
“Talk to you later!” I shout at Marcy as I disappear through the doorway, Eli slamming the massive oak door closed behind us. “You can let go of me now.”
He pauses, turning, then glances down at his hand gripping my arm. He yanks it away like I’m on fire. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Are you hurt?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I never want to hurt you, Ruby.”
I pull up my sleeve and show him my arm. “Look. It’s fine. Let’s just go, can we?”
He heaves a few deep breaths, looking around at Marcy’s front yard with its decorative fruit trees and manicured patches of lawn. Her family once had a farm, too, but not anymore. Their dealership brings in more money than any working farm ever could.
“I’m sorry you don’t have nice things,” he says, and I laugh.
“I have nice things. I have…” I almost say you, but stop before I can make a total fool of myself.
Instead I just mumble something about a safe home and a happy life.
Which is true, but…
The nice thing I want is standing right in front of me. The gifts he could give me don’t have anything to do with Ford Mustangs or decorative fruit trees. Or even shiny new John Deere harvesters.
I slip my hand into his, and give him the best smile I can muster, then I turn and pull him towards his truck.
He makes sure I’m strapped in, then starts up and pulls away, heading for home.
We make our way out of Marcy’s street, and the old truck starts to pick up speed. Out past the Banks’ farm with its massive barn standing like a sentry over the fields. To the crossroads.