Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Fuck, she is beautiful.
And mine.
So fucking mine.
Whether she likes it or not.
Her lips are slightly parted. I know I’m pushing my luck, but I don’t care at this point. If she wakes up, she wakes up. Then I can fuck her, so it’s a win-win for me.
I push lightly on her bottom lip, opening her mouth just enough to push my thumb in and leave the taste of my cum on her inner lip.
Once I’ve marked her, I extract my finger from her mouth and my hand from her shorts.
I look down at my work, at my beautiful girl with flushed cheeks and a peaceful face, her tummy marked with my cum and the taste of me in her mouth. I rub it in a little better on her stomach, then decide I better leave before I lose control and fuck her senseless, uncaring of the details.
I don’t want to leave any hints that I was here tonight since I don’t want her to be suspicious of the pens, so I make sure everything is as it was when I got here, then I slip out.
Good night, sweet Sophie.
I’ll see you soon.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie
“Sophie, you’re going to be late,” Mom calls down the hall.
“I know,” I call back, my face hot as I search for my class schedule. I know the general time of all my classes, but I’m not the best with directions, so I still have to check it for the room numbers when I’m on my way to class.
I swear I tucked it in my psych notebook with my useless notes yesterday, but I can’t find it anywhere.
I’m already running late, so I can’t stop by the office to have another one printed. I planned to get to class a little early today so I could review some of the material before the pop quiz I’m expecting in my first class. Nothing is going to plan.
I finally manage to rush out the door with my bag and a granola bar since I didn’t have time for breakfast. I look up to head for my car, and I’m startled to see a familiar stretch limo parked in front of my house, Hugh waiting by the door.
“Good morning, Miss Bradwell. There’s breakfast and a hot latte waiting for you in the car. Caramel apple spice. That’s what your roommate said you’d prefer.”
I blink, fleetingly think about saying no, but there’s no time for a debate today.
I’m starving, I’m running late, I’m hot and cold at the same time from rushing around, and relaxing and being driven to class today actually sounds magnificent. I can study in the car, so I’ll probably do better on my test, and the promise of a caramel apple spice latte has my mouth watering.
I change directions and lug all my crap to the limo instead of my car. “Thanks, Hugh. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Happy to be of assistance, Miss Bradwell.”
The car is toasty and comfortable as soon as I duck inside. I drop all my stuff on the seat and sink into the warm leather. Are these heated seats? It feels magnificent.
Every bit of the stress I’ve felt since my eyes opened this morning melts right out of me.
Once the car is moving and I’ve taken a moment to catch my breath, I lean forward and grab the tray off the bar.
A hot breakfast sandwich on a buttery croissant, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a cold bottle of water await me. I realize as soon as I see it that I completely forgot to grab myself a bottle of water on the way out the door.
I wolf down breakfast. It’s so good, infinitely better than the sad granola bar I abandoned on the seat beside me.
Once my belly is full and I’m relaxed, I turn my attention back to the stuff I dropped on the seat. I sort out my purse and tuck the granola bar inside in case I get hungry later, then I open my schoolbag and take out my notebook and textbook so I can go over my notes.
When we arrive at school, Hugh pulls right up at the entrance to let me out. Since I don’t have to park and hustle to my class, I make it on time.
“All right, everybody. Pop quiz!”
I smile faintly as a few people groan. I don’t know why they’re surprised. We’ve had a pop quiz every Tuesday since the second week of classes. Seems like they’d know to expect it by now.
I draw out my pencil pouch and put it on the table next to my bottled water. The teacher walks down the middle of the room, handing piles of papers to the first student in each row, and they pass them down until there are none left.
I’m at the end of the table against the wall in this class, so I get the last one and thank the girl who handed it to me.