Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Powerless to the pleasure, I let it own me, my balls draw up and with a roar, I explode filling her hole with every single drop of my release. Being inside of her, coming inside of her, it feels like Heaven, like I’ve died and finally met my maker.
It’s then as I’m drifting down from cloud nine, my eyes popping open as the feel of wetness drips down my cock that I realize we didn’t use a condom.
Fuck. Never having made the mistake before I swallow thickly and look up at Emerson who is smiling, her eyes bright and full of life.
“We didn’t use a condom and we never talked about birth control,” I admit, trying not to sound worried. Not that I would be if she got pregnant or something. I would be here, beside her, loving her, but I really don’t want kids right now. Not if I can help it.
“I’m on the shot, and got one just before I came here,” she tells me, and I feel the boulder of fear rise up off my chest. Still after knowing all the girls I’ve been with, she shouldn’t have trusted me so easily. Then again, she probably knows damn well I would never put her in a situation that would harm her, doesn’t matter though I want to clean the air and make certain that she knows I’m clean.
“I never had sex without a condom before and I’ve always been careful and I know I’m clean,” I say, all while still buried deep inside of her.
“It’s okay, I trust you.” Her words have my chest swelling with emotions, her trust means so much to me. She leans into me. Wrapping her arms around me tightly while claiming my lips with her own, kissing me so deeply and passionately that my mind goes blank.
With her in my arms, I don’t care about anything else, I don’t care about the past or even the future, all that matters is us, right now in this moment… a moment I wish to never end.
◆◆◆
From the moment I woke up the next morning the happiness I felt last night has been corrupted by a dark thought I can’t get rid of. It’s been festering all day long. Sitting in the back of my mind, nagging at me, growing like cancer.
I know Emerson doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, and I’m not going to subject her to reliving that moment, but I need to do something. I can’t let that sick fuck get away with what he’s done. He needs to pay, one way or the other. If I have to be the one to do it, then I will, but something is going to be done.
Walking into my father’s office, I bypass his secretary without a second glance. She greets me quietly but doesn’t stop me from walking in unannounced. Not that it would stop me anyway.
The door swings open and my father’s head snaps up, his mouth pops open, probably to yell at the person walking in unannounced but when he sees that it’s me, his annoyed expression turns curious with a hint of worry.
I haven’t come to his office in a long time and the times I did come, it was at my father’s request. Today though, it’s in honor of the one woman I love.
“Clark,” he greets me, clearly surprised by my presence. “Is everything okay?”
“No…” I close the door behind me and shove down into a seat at the desk, across him.
“Dad, this is going to seem like a strange request, but I need you to tell me everything you know about Rick Paulson.”
“Rick? What do you have going on with him?” His dismissive tone has the already heated blood boiling in my veins.
“It doesn’t matter, I just need to know about him.”
“Clark, what is this? What did you get yourself into? I’ll help you however I can, but I don’t want you getting involved with him.”
“Dad!” I yell, slamming my fist down onto the mahogany table, making everything sitting on top shake. “I need you, okay? I really need you on this. I've never asked you for anything, not even after mom died. I just need you to do this one thing for me, it’s important.” Even I don’t miss the desperation in my voice.
My father’s face falls, his expression sobers as if his constant mask of strength and mightiness is faltered by the desperation of my words. I don’t remember ever telling my dad that I need him. I’ve been too busy hating him and pushing him away, blaming him for everything in my life. Admitting that I need my dad, catapults us both into a new territory. It makes us both vulnerable.
“I need you to tell me about this guy,” I say after a pause. “It’s important and you know I wouldn’t ask you for anything if it wasn’t.”