Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
“Ow, fuck! Fuck!”
Yes, it hurt. But she didn’t try to stop me. She didn’t move her hands from around my neck or fight the twine that had bound her. She didn’t try to squirm away, or whimper for me to ease up on her virgin asshole. Nothing. She took it like the dirty little slut she claimed she wanted to be, but she was no Maisie. She was no Serena, or Madeline, or any one of the blur of faces I’d taken advantage of. She was in a whole other sweet ocean of her own.
I used my thumb on her clit as I slid my dirty cock in and out of her, making sure she was lost in the world of filth along with me before I truly let myself go with her asshole. I worked her, carefully, making sure I was playing her body to the right tune.
“That’s it,” I said as she started panting, grinding against my thumb.
She came quietly this time, with a stream of murmurs, head tipped back and eyes closed. She was still smiling in the aftermath when I slammed into her on a mission of my own. I fucked her in hard, deep thrusts, cursing as her dirty ass clenched and milked my cock to the brink, and then I was gone, my face in hers. I came deep inside Rosie’s dirty angelic asshole, with her eyes locked on mine like I was a god.
My rational senses didn’t come back to me this time when the climax subsided. I stayed there in position, with my bound princess pinned underneath me, her ass strangling my pulsing cock as she panted against my mouth.
What point was there in denying the truth any longer?
We’d jumped down after the crazy white rabbit, and there was no going back.
The angel in this room belonged to me. Fascinated. Grateful. Glorious. And the same was true in return.
My demons belonged to the angel now.
And so did I.
Chapter Eighteen
Julian
I stared up at the gorgeous girl catching her breath on the sofa, rubbing her wrists from being bound. I knew the road ahead. My resolve was broken beyond all recovery.
She was smiling, the scrawls of marker pen displayed proudly as I found my phone from my suit jacket. I called up my email account and typed in the words to my office manager.
Please accept my resignation, effective immediately.
Regards, Julian.
And that was it, sealed. We were both done for, until Rosie reached the end of the infatuation and life moved her on. I wouldn’t be moving on at all. I was done for. My only reason for existing was right here in this room. The drab routine of putting on a suit in the morning and setting off to the office, purely for the benefit of a token stab at normality, was redundant. Put into perspective.
Maybe this whirlwind of beauty would in fact make my eventual exit easier. Rosie would be a loss I wouldn’t be able to accept when she finally outgrew and left me, and the outcome could be inevitable. Finally, maybe I’d press the proverbial overdose button and wave goodbye for all time.
Rosie didn’t belong with me, or to me. I wasn’t going to be the man of her life and the man who deserved her future. He was still out there somewhere, craving his soulmate. I only hoped he was worthy from day one when he found her.
I took a seat on the sofa and took hold of her wrists, rubbing the rope marks to ease them.
“What happens now?” she asked me, slightly hesitant, as though I was in any way likely to backtrack on her exit from work and change my mind.
The poor girl had no idea just how firmly she’d snared me.
I kept it simple. “You stay here until you decide to leave.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
Another cute message of appreciation where none was warranted. She was a beautiful innocent temptress in my shitty apartment, the appreciation was all was mine.
I ran my finger over the slut scrawled on her face, still soaking in the sight of her. Her lips were swollen puffy from kisses, and she was battered, tainted, used. Perfect.
It was her who made the move towards me, shifting herself onto my lap to brush her lips against mine.
“Steady,” I told her. “You’ll be reawakening the filth.”
“That’s what I want,” she whispered back, and we plunged straight back in.
The night was a blur of whisky, cigarettes, croissants, cereal, and sex. We were nothing but flesh exploring flesh, soaking up every single sensation. I traced marker pen scrawls all over her body with my tongue, and she sucked at my cock with the ferocity of a desperate slut. We fucked. We played. We teased and tempted, driving each other into the realms of insanity.
We were still a tangle of limbs on top of the bed sheets together when the morning came, and there we resumed, kissing as I pinned her down and used her pussy all over again. She was nothing more than whimpers and willing, and I was besotted by them. The angel from downstairs was a dirty drug, and I was a filthy addict, but she was just as hungry as I was. She couldn’t stand even the slightest distance between my body and hers. I soaped her down in the shower without giving a shit about the taste of suds as I sucked on her nipples. I knelt and ate her pussy under a cascade, almost choking at the streaming water, and she held my head to her, begging. She returned the favour straight back.