Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“No. I don’t pity you. Well, maybe just a little.”
She snorts. She lifts her head at the exact moment I pull back because I’m almost certain a painful tea bagging is in my future. She tilts her head up, and her left eye twitches rapidly. Her jaw is clenched tight, but her cheeks are a lovely and delightful shade of soft petal pink, while her eyes are so dark that they’re almost black.
All of a sudden, I’m reacting and listening to things I shouldn’t be listening to, responding in ways I shouldn’t. My hands do the work, cupping Ellis’ face, and my thumbs caress the silk of her cheeks. Her eyes become wider, darker, and shocked, which I’m sure is a precursor to anger, and then I’m bringing my face to hers. I draw her close as I bring myself close. And then it happens.
Our lips meet, gently, very gently because I’m scared her mouth is like a mousetrap, and something will spring down on me very painfully and accurately, at any time.
I should stop. I should run. I feel like the mouse reaching for the cheese, getting closer and closer, and yup, almost there. Ellis’ lips part and she gasps, which brings me closer to the cheese. My lips move against hers, guiding, dancing, and searching. I drop my hand away from her face and curl it around the small of her back. She melts into me in a puddle of shapely curves, hot skin, and also soaked dishwater blouse. It smells faintly of old spaghetti, and what do you know, it happens to be a turn-on.
Her lips part again, and her tongue sweeps out and tastes me tentatively. There’s an explosion of light, at least behind my closed eyes, and the Ellis who hates me is suddenly replaced with an Ellis who doesn’t hate me so much. Or maybe she does, but she’s intent on hate-kissing. She digs one hand into my shoulder, balling up my t-shirt like it’s an old rag while the other rakes through my hair, her nails scratching at my scalp while she tries to climb me like a cat. My body reacts on instinct. When my lips part, her tongue sweeps in. Her lush breasts slam up against my chest, and her pelvis bumps into mine.
I’m fully aware that this might just be a way for her to let off steam. I know the mousetrap might be hovering somewhere near the back of my neck, the cold metal bar waiting to snap, but I’m also aware that somewhere in the distance is the looming smell of cheese. Wait, no, not cheese. Christ, this metaphor has gone totally off the rails.
So have I, apparently, because now I’m dragging my tongue along Ellis’ bottom lip, savoring her unique flavor. A lick isn’t enough, though I would desperately like to lick her from head to toe and then back, so I suckle her bottom lip into my mouth, groaning when the sweet honey taste of her bursts over my tongue.
Her fingers brutalize my scalp, tugging at my hair. Then, her back arches, and she thrusts her breasts into my chest so hard that I can feel the hard beads of her nipples. My hand curls at her hip, grinding her into me. She mewls and squirms, butting straight into my raging erection, which kind of hurts but sends jarring white-hot heat racing through me. I sweep my hand low while I thrust my tongue into her mouth. Her jeans are tight, but they’re the stretchy kind, and they cup her rounded bottom nicely. My hand fits there like it was the only thing on earth made to do it, and I squeeze her butt cheek. She hooks her leg around me and tries to climb me again, all while rocking her hips and grinding hard against me.
This is bad. This is really bad. I think we’re both enjoying this, whatever it is we’re doing. Maybe we’re both mice, and the trap will come down on us both. I think there’s a rhyme about two mice and how they meet their gruesome fate. No, wait. It was about three mice, and gruesome things happened, but they didn’t die at the end, tough little bastards that they are. Clearly, my dick is draining all the blood away from my brain. I should stop thinking about mice.
Instead, I should think more about pulling away and putting a stop to this before it goes too far.
Maybe it’s the curse, or the fact that Ellis grazes her teeth over my bottom lip, lets out a shuddery exhale, and attacks my mouth again. She thrusts her tongue into my mouth, stroking mine like it’s a rare, tasty treasure. Her hips jam hard against my erection, and she does a wriggly dance that makes me see stars.