Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
She’s so tight, her body still clenched.
“Relax, babe. I got you.”
With a deep breath, she lets go. Her body softens. As slow as I can, I push inside her. I grit my teeth, allowing her to adjust before I move again. Just a little. Just enough to make us both take in a sharp breath.
“You okay?” I whisper.
Taylor nods, her turquoise eyes shining with trust, need, arousal. She sucks in another breath, then grabs my hips to bring me closer.
She’s perfect. Warm and tight, squeezing my dick every time I pull back and gently, achingly, plunge back into her. More than that, though. Her nails softly drag down my back and it’s like my fucking soul trembles. She licks my neck and my mind is wiped of everything but her voice, her taste. I forget where I am, who I am. There’s just this moment and the space between us. Her softness and her breath against my skin.
Too quickly, though, my climax builds. I want to make it last for her, but this feels too good and every time she arches her back, I can’t help but draw every ounce of pleasure I can get from her body.
“Baby,” I choke out.
“Mmmm?” The pleasure swimming on her face brings me dangerously closer to the edge.
“I promise I will spend every second of this relationship fucking you so good and giving you hundreds and thousands of orgasms, but right now…” I groan against her neck, my hips flexing forward, fast and erratic. “Right now…I need…to…”
I come so hard I see stars, shuddering against the perfection that is her body. When the rush of pleasure subsides, I pull out to discard the condom in the small wastebasket under her nightstand.
Lying on my back, I bring Taylor to rest against my chest, threading my fingers through her soft hair. After a few minutes, she tilts her head up to place a kiss under the corner of my jaw.
“I love you, too.”
35
Taylor
Sasha texts me on my way into my co-op class at the elementary school. Something to the effect of “hey, bitch, if you get a chance, take that hockey stick out of your mouth for five seconds and text me.” Which is her endearing way of saying she misses me.
I take full responsibility for our dwindling amount of girl time; after patching things up with Conor, he and I have spent every day together for the past week. Now it’s May, finals are only a couple weeks away, and I’m a little ashamed to admit that what used to be study time with Sasha at the Kappa house has become failing to study with Conor at my place until we give up and get naked.
Turns out sex is good. I sure do like sex. Especially sex with Conor.
Although as it also turns out, sex is terribly distracting. Hard as I’ve tried, my reading comprehension skills tank when he’s trying to tear off my clothes.
I did make it to the Kappa house for the election, however. No surprise there—Abigail won. Though to ask her she was just elected supreme leader for life. I expect she’ll soon have portraits of herself riding dolphins and shooting lasers out of her eyes hanging in every room. Sasha and I were two of only four protest votes against her. I’m a pessimist and even I thought the resistance had greater numbers in the house than that. I guess we’ll all have to get used to bowing down to our new supreme leader.
The thought of spending a year under Abigail’s rule turns my stomach. It might have been a secret ballot, but she knows damn well I cast one of the votes against her. And I have no doubt she’ll make me pay dearly for that show of dissent. How, I’m not sure yet, but knowing Abigail it won’t be pretty.
If it weren’t for all the time and effort I’ve already contributed to Kappa Chi, I’d consider leaving the sorority. But at least I have Sasha as an ally. Besides, being a Kappa means a support network of professional connections for life. I didn’t assimilate into the collective just to blow up my future capital so close to the end.
So, one more year. If Abigail really runs things off the rails, Sasha and I can mount the insurrection.
Now in Mrs. Gardner’s first grade class, I’m helping the kids work on collages they’re making about the books they read in class this week. The room is the quietest it’s been all day. Everyone has their heads down, eyes focused. They’re cutting pictures out of old magazines and gluing their creations on poster board.
Thank goodness for glue sticks. I’ve only had to wash glue out of one girl’s hair today. Mrs. Gardner banned liquid glue after a major catastrophe led to three emergency haircuts. I’ll never understand how kids manage to constantly find new ways to attach themselves to each other.