Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I shrug, trying my best to appear unfazed, hoping Thayer will be the one to shut it down. Holden chuckles, taking that as permission granted, then folds his hands behind his head, crosses his ankles, and focuses his attention on the scene playing out on the TV.
“Promise you won’t tell Mom and Dad I snuck out?” the pretty, young brunette coos, pushing her lips into a pout as she opens her legs in invitation, her tiny dress bunched up high on her hips. Her “stepbrother” moves toward the bed, putting his hands on her spread knees.
“That depends. Are you going to finally let me fuck this tight little pussy?”
She plants a foot on his chest when he tries to move in. “One time,” she says firmly. “I’ll let you fuck me once, if you promise not to tell.”
“Deal.”
It’s cheesy. And so obviously scripted. But my pulse quickens, and the arousal I was feeling earlier returns with a vengeance. I feel my nipples tighten painfully underneath Thayer’s shirt, and my breath catches when the guy on the screen shoves his boxers down before he slides into her without preamble. They both groan as he moves inside her, and after only a few short seconds, he’s flipping her onto her stomach and pushing into her from behind. I bite down on my lip, squeezing my thighs together.
Closing my eyes, I will myself to think about anything other than what’s on the screen, but all my stupid brain manages to do is picture Thayer inside me, his lips on my neck and his hands on my hips as I straddle him.
“Turn it off,” Thayer’s angry voice breaks into my fantasy. My eyes snap open to find him watching me with his fists clenched at his side and a noticeable bulge in his jeans.
My cheeks burn and I avert my gaze. Holden chuckles knowingly, exiting out of the app. Stephen King’s It—the new one—replaces the porno. Much better. My heartrate returns to normal after a few minutes, and my eyes start to grow heavy. I inch down enough to lay my head flat on the cushion, keeping my legs curled up tight, away from Thayer, but then I feel his hand on my ankle right before he pulls my legs to rest on top of his lap, one at a time. I’m even more surprised when he doesn’t release me. His right hand stays wrapped around my ankle.
“Thanks,” I mutter, returning my attention to the movie, even though I can’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his warm fingers on my ankle. His thumb glides back and forth, but his eyes are locked on the TV, making me wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. When his fingertips ghost over my calves and up to the insides of my thighs and back down again under the blanket, I know it’s intentional. Goosebumps break out over my skin, but I don’t make a move to stop him.
For what seems like forever, his fingers continue their path up and down my legs, inching a little higher with each pass, teasing. When he finally reaches the seam of my shorts, I’m practically shaking with need. My eyes shoot over to make sure Holden isn’t aware of what’s happening right next to him. I can’t see his face, but his hand hangs limply off the side of the sofa, telling me he’s passed out. Thayer’s thumb presses against my clit through the thin fabric of my shorts, and my eyes fall shut at the sensation. He only applies the faintest amount of pressure, rubbing slow circles, and I part my legs, encouraging him to give me more even though I shouldn’t let this happen. I should be stopping this.
Thayer groans, then both of his hands are at my hips, pulling my shorts down. Panicked, I cover his hands with mine, stopping him. I look over at Holden once again, but he’s still in the same position, asleep and oblivious.
“Remember when I said you’d pay for that little show later?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s later.”
I gnaw on my lip, nervous, but I slowly release my grip on his hands, unable to resist temptation. My heart slams against my ribs as Thayer slides my shorts down my legs, stuffing them in between the cushions. His warm palm skims up my left leg, pushing my knee up under the blanket, then he repeats the motion with the other one. Reaching over, he drags his thumb against my bottom lip. When my mouth parts, his middle finger dips past my lips.
“Suck,” he instructs. I close my lips around his finger, sucking lightly as he slides it in and out. His eyes blaze as he watches my mouth, then he pulls it out, replacing it with a different finger. “Again.”