Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
My mom’s house needed a new roof and I added a four hundred square foot patio and four hundred square foot pool to the bid. Mom was pissed when she found out but quickly changed her tune when it was finished. I also insisted that she only work part-time so that she could enjoy her new addition. That battle took a few weeks to win once she finally gave in.
I upgraded my apartment and rented a place on South Beach, next to Collins Street that was within walking distance from my bar. It was a two bedroom, two bath, and I split the rent with my buddy from college, Alex. He was rarely ever home and spent most of his time with his girlfriend, Tammy. I didn’t understand why they didn’t live together, but he said she wasn’t that kind of girl, which made no sense because he stayed with her most nights anyway.
All in all, taking over the bar was the best decision I had ever made.
“Hey, my name is Lola.”
Did I mention the women?
Yeah… I got pussy thrown at me like a goddamn rock star.
“Hey there, Lola; what can I get you, beautiful?”
She giggled. “I’ll take a screaming orgasm,” she panted with a raised eyebrow.
I cleared my throat. “One screaming orgasm coming up.”
She licked her lips and leaned over the bar, leaving her ample cleavage displayed for me. “Promise?” she murmured.
Yeah… so I took her home.
What? I’m a man.
I said I learned not to fuck the help, not the customers…
“God, you’re so fucking hot. I bet you could make me scream your name without even trying,” she purred to the side of my neck, leaning against my door as I tried to unlock it.
Women often said I was good looking, with my dark eyes, tan skin, and short black hair. I was about 6’1” and usually sported a five o’clock shadow, not because I was trying to seem edgy or mysterious like women called it… mostly because I never slept and worked like crazy. I made time to work out, though; it was the only way I could work out my frustrations, and so my build was impressive, as they loved to call it.
I made her walk backward in front of me until her back hit my bedroom door and she immediately reached for my face. I simultaneously grabbed her wrists and extended them to the door over her head.
She breathed out her arousal.
Here was the thing about having sex with me; I had to be in control. It wasn’t because I wanted to turn a woman on. Yes, women fucking loved a man in control; it would make them turn into a dog in heat. But that wasn’t why I was like that. It was from my fear that I would hurt them if I weren’t in control.
When I was in therapy, I had disclosed to my therapist that I couldn’t release any sort of control when I was being intimate with a woman. Even when they were on top, my hands would still be on their hips or the back of their necks, guiding them and controlling the sway of their bodies as they rocked on my cock. She thought it was dominance, and I never had the courage to correct her.
When I was twelve, I had woken up to use the bathroom one night and saw that my parents were having sex on the couch. My mom was straddling my dad in complete control over him. He freaked out and hurt her. He hurt her so bad that he made her nose bleed and he left bruises all over her body that even makeup couldn’t cover.
That was my fear. That I would react the same way he had, and I would end up hurting someone.
“Devon… baby, where did you go?” she asked, taking me away from my thoughts.
I smiled, holding onto her wrists harsher. “Nowhere, darlin’, I’m right here in between your legs, right where I want to be.”
I moved her wrists together so that I could hold them with one hand, and with the other, I glided my fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them like she was sucking my dick.
“That’s it… get them nice and wet for me,” I praised.
“I’m already wet for you.”
I cocked my head to the side and kissed along the side of her neck. “Oh yeah? Let me feel… do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to pet your pussy?”
“Yes,” she breathed out.
My fingers moved to the hem of her short red dress and I crept my way up her thigh, leaving a wake of desire behind.
“You aren’t wearing any panties,” I groaned, sucking on her cleavage.
She moaned in response.
“You’re soaking wet,” I confirmed, and she moaned again.
With the palm of my hand, I rubbed back and forth from her opening to the top of her clit, spreading all her moisture around.