Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” Hunter murmurs against my lips, and pulls away. His eyes have gone dark with desire. “Frankie,” he says urgently, “I have to fuck you.”
I don’t even hesitate.
“Yes,” I breathe, and then I’m pulling his face back to mine as he starts fumbling with my jeans again, this time with a renewed vigor. The idea of our parents walking in on us hasn’t completely left my mind, but I can feel myself pushing it away, too caught up in my desperate desire for Hunter. I want - no, need - to feel him inside me, to feel the sensations he made me feel at the party, and every second, the intensity grows stronger.
Hunter’s hand leaves my breast as he tugs my jeans down, bunching them up around my thighs before pulling down my panties. Then his fingers are traveling over my pussy again, already slick with juices as he slides first one, and then two digits inside me. I stifle a moan, glancing towards the kitchen door, as new waves of pleasure begin to course through me.
“So wet already,” Hunter says, his voice low and husky in my ear as he presses his lips to my neck.
“Please,” I say, practically begging now, “Hunter, I need you.”
The sound of my plea seems to send him into even more of a frenzy, as I feel him grip me even tighter, his teeth biting down on my neck hard enough to leave a mark. I don’t care. He could leave twenty marks of his possession on me, and I would be happy because it feels right. I belong to this man, and I’m his.
Suddenly, Hunter’s hands are on my waist, and before I know what’s happening, he’s spinning me around so that I’m facing the table. Putting his palm on my back, he pushes me gently down, bending me over the table before shoving the chairs out of the way. I can hear him unzipping his jeans, his breaths ragged, and then, suddenly, his hard cock is pushing against me. I gasp at the feeling of him at my entrance, spreading my legs apart to accommodate him, and with one long stroke, he pushes easily inside of me.
“Ohhhh,” I moan gutturally. “Oh god.”
For a moment he doesn’t move, letting me adjust to the feeling of him stretching me. I’m still getting used to that sensation, but soon the initial discomfort begins to wear off, replaced by a desperate need for friction. Hunter thrusts forward once, experimentally, keeping a hand on my lower back as he gauges my response. Then he begins to move more consistently, picking up speed as he finds a rhythm. I can hear my mom and George talking in the other room, completely oblivious to the fact that their children are doing the dirty in the kitchen.
“Fuck,” Hunter murmurs. “You feel so good, Frankie.”
“You do, too,” I manage, my breath catching in my throat as he hits me at just the right angle, enough to make my head spin with pleasure. My words dissolve into a moan, and I bite down on my arm to keep from drawing the others’ attention. Time stretches on, the only sounds the rhythmic slapping of Hunter’s pelvis against mine and the muffled conversation from the other room. Soon I can feel my climax building, that same unbelievable rush he made me feel at the party coming back like a tidal wave. And then it’s crashing down on me, making my whole body shake with its intensity. It’s all I can do not to cry out Hunter’s name as he continues to claim my curves, trembling from the pleasure of it. My curves clamp and contract on his hardness, squeezing him for more.
It doesn’t take Hunter long to come as I squirm and moan underneath him. There’s the hot gush of fluid in my hot tunnel as he finishes inside me, continuing at a slower pace as he rides out the aftershocks. He’s still breathing hard, and I feel him reach down and caress my ass, savoring the feeling of our connected bodies as we recover together, hardly believing where we are or how this happened.
I’m so distracted by the feeling of the climax that I don’t realize it’s gone silent in the living room until it’s too late.
“Hunter-” I begin, but then I look to my right, and my heart stops.
Standing in the kitchen doorway are Gertrude and George, their wine glasses in their hands, staring at us with wide eyes. Hunter is still inside me, his hips stuttering as he looks up at them, and for a moment, none of us speak. Then all hell breaks loose.
8
Hunter
I guess it’s my fault for not hearing Dad and Frankie’s mom get up from the sofa and make their way back to the kitchen. I was so wrapped up in what was happening with Frankie that I stopped paying attention to anything else, lost in the feeling of being inside her again after all these hours of ruminating. And god, was it good. She was so hot, wet, and tight, just like I remembered. But then the curvy girl gasps, turning to look towards the door, and when I follow her gaze with my own, my heart sinks.