Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Oh crap, I haven’t thought about Harry’s upcoming birthday in way too long, too caught up in Ant and my imaginary future to think about anything else.
“You are still coming, right?” she pushes, reading the guilt on my face.
It’s the week after next. I planned at least one overnight stay, and just… well, it’s crept up on me. I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. I haven’t even arranged to see Michelle.
“Yeah, I’m still coming. Don’t worry,” I assure her.
“Phew. I was worried. Mum and Dad would be gutted if you didn’t turn up. They’re missing you like crazy.” She pauses with a smile. “So am I. And so is Harry, too. He’d be so sad if Auntie Cass wasn’t there for his party.”
“I will be there for his party. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I know what I need to do as soon as Sarah and I wave goodbye. I’m straight back up the stairs, and it feels like walking a mile as I cross the landing. There’s a tickle in my stomach as I open the door at the far end. It’s clear Ant has already prepared for his fantasies to come to life and it’s a whole other league than I expected it to be. Much more… dirty.
Seedy.
It’s a big mattress. A lot of guys could join me on the rubber sheets.
It seems real now. Like it’s really going to happen in the flesh and not just in fantasy, and I’m so edgy I’m churning up. Unsure.
I take advantage of the offer to make myself at home, opening up a bottle of cava in the kitchen and pouring myself a glass. A large one.
I tell myself I can do it for him. Baby steps, he said. I can do baby steps. I can take it slow.
Another glass of cava helps to convince me. I try to watch TV and chill out a bit, but it does nothing for me. All I’m thinking about is that mattress and how many guys I’ll be able to take on it. I’m in the kitchen, finishing up the bottle of cava when Ant calls me back at just gone midnight. He smirks as soon as he sees my face.
“Are you enjoying a drink? You look like it.”
I hold up the bottle, and he tuts at me.
“Cava? Don’t sell yourself short. You should have gone for the champagne.”
His smile makes me smile, but my nerves are still there. I see the twinkle in his eyes and know what he’s thinking before he asks the question – just like he must know the answer. There’s no doubt about it, he’s coming to read me as well as I’m coming to read him.
“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The mattress room?”
It takes me a moment before I can answer him. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“I know it was a quick set up to put together so soon, but I wanted it ready and waiting for us,” he pauses. “What did you think of it?”
“It’s, um… intense,” I say, then take another sip of cava.
“It will be intense, baby, but don’t worry. All I want is you to give me what you can.”
I am worried, though. As much as I try to tell myself I’m not, I am worried. I have no idea how the hell I’m going to perform and if I’ll live up to his expectations.
If I’ll want to.
Seeing the hunger in his eyes helps the fear slip away. Seeing him want me like that is more than enough to do as he asks me to.
“Go upstairs,” he says. “I want to see you in that room. I’m desperate to see you in there.”
I don’t speak, just climb the stairs and cross the landing. I take a breath as I open the door.
“Get down on the bed,” he tells me, and there is a filthy authority in his tone. “It’s time to christen that mattress.”
I drop myself onto it with my phone still in my hand.
“Camera on the tripod,” he says. “The one on your right.”
I see the one he’s talking about, empty and ready for my phone. I put it on there and tweak the angle instinctively.
“Good girl. Now strip for me and play with your sweet cunt, baby. I want to see you on those cheap rubber sheets with your legs spread wide.”
I wriggle out of my clothes and get into position. The sheets feel weird against my skin. Sticky.
“Fuck, yes. Hitch those legs up,” he says, and groans as I do what I’m told. “That’s so fucking hot, baby. Spread that pretty cunt wide for me like a good slut.”
His words come so naturally that I sink into it.
“Four fingers in your pussy, as deep as you can,” he tells me, and I do it, even though it’s hard.
“Do you like that?” he asks. “Do you like being a good slut for me?”