Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Did he even know how to make you come?” I demand, breath hot against her mouth as my fingers find her clit. “Did you wish it were me instead?”
She doesn’t answer, just kisses me again, losing herself in the moment. I easily bring her to orgasm with a few expert strokes of my fingers. Before she’s done coming, I flip her around, place my palm on her back, and push her over the edge of the desk.
Yesterday, I worshipped her.
Today, I’m punishing her.
Showing her the difference between gentle and rough. How she may think she wants it to hurt, but she doesn’t. She needs to know the fucking difference.
I take a brief moment to admire her ass poking in the air before quickly unfastening my slacks to pull out my cock. Spitting into my hand, I then stroke over my dick to wet it, and then I’m pressing against her slit.
A low groan rumbles from her. I reach forward, slapping a hand around her mouth to keep her from making a sound, and then slam into her slippery, tight body, finally taking what I’ve dreamed about for what feels like an eternity. Her cunt grips me in a way that makes me see stars. Without waiting for her to adjust to my thickness or incredible length, I quickly pull back and drive in so hard the slap of our flesh echoes in the room.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Over and over, I thrust into her perfect body, not trying to make it sweet or make it last. I want this to be quick and a brutal reminder. The next time we fuck, I’ll make love to her like she deserves. Right now, I need her to feel my anger and hurt.
She sniffles, a sob moaning out of her. I release my hand to make sure it’s not too much, waiting for some verbal command to quit. Nothing. Moans and slight squeezes of her pussy around my dick.
“Feel how good it is to have me inside you?” I murmur, squeezing her bruised ass cheek. “Feel it, Love?”
She nods. Good girl. It emboldens me to fuck with less vigor and longer strokes, hitting her in the right spots inside. Her fingers grip the desk as she quietly pants. A few more thrusts and then I’m on the precipice. I grip her hips, lifting her slightly, and then aim for her G-spot. Another groan of pleasure escapes her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’m sweating underneath all my clothes, but I don’t stop. I keep going until her body explodes. Shudders start from her core, quivering around my cock, and then ripple outward making all of her limbs quake. My nuts tighten and I lose it. I start to pull out and then think better of it. Grinding deeper into her, I hiss as cum jets out of me, filling her deeper than my damn son could ever go. Knowing I’m spilling cum over his attempt to claim her is a surge to my ego.
He’s a teenager. A boy.
I’m a fucking man.
And I just fucked her like one.
Once my dick stops throbbing, I pull out and watch in sick fascination as cum runs out of her like a faucet, leaking down her legs and dripping onto the floor. Seeing her used up and spent, sprawled out on my desk, is a turn-on like I’ve never known before.
“He was sweet.” Her soft voice is barely audible.
I freeze, confused by her words. “What?”
“Spencer was sweet. He made love to me.”
Turning from her, I drag my fingers through my hair and swallow down the panic. What the fuck did I just do? I snatch some tissues from a box and quickly clean off my dick.
“Fuck, Love,” I mutter, disposing of the tissues and then tucking my dick away. “Are you okay?”
She still hasn’t moved. As much as I want to admire her ass, used pussy, and the puddle of my cum on the floor, I can’t. Guilt is swelling like a tide, coming in quickly and threatening to drown me. I grab more tissue and begin cleaning up my messy girl. She’s boneless and allows me to drag her panties up her thighs. I pull her dress into place and yet she still doesn’t move.
Fuck.
I fucked her up. Us up. Everything up.
Hooking an arm under her, I lift her up and then manhandle her over to my desk chair. I pull her into my lap, curling her legs up close to me. I hold her like she’s a little girl and I’m her father. I want to fix all her pain even though I’m the one who caused it.
“Shh,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. “Let me hold you, Love. My sweet, beautiful girl.”
Then, like a dam being smashed through, she starts to cry. Soft, sad sobs. I feel like the worst asshole on the planet. I hurt her. No one to blame but me. Tears sting my own eyes, but I don’t let them actually form, choosing to blink fast and hard. I hug her tighter, whispering praise over and over again.