Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I felt Angel’s body jerk, so I grabbed her hip out of reflex, thinking she needed steadying but she got to her feet for a second and then in a flash, she dropped her panties to the floor, kicked her shoes off, lifted her dress at the back only, so showing only me her naked ass, and then she sat back down on my lap, right against my straining cock, tucking her feet into my sides so that her knees were adjacent to my thighs. She sat on me like she was getting ready to ride a mechanical bull. My dick jumped.
She reached behind herself and without looking, slid my suit pants zipper down. I was in a hormone-driven half-drunken haze, so I just sat and watched until she got my button undone and reached for my dick blindly. She shifted forward, still sitting reverse cowgirl, her feet tucked in at my sides on either side as she slid back, sliding me inside her hot, wet heat while arranging the fabric of her dress over us. She tightened her legs around my thighs, as if preparing to hold onto me with them like she would a mechanical bull.
The length of her off-white dress covered her and covered me. She kept moving, slowly, with purpose, her hands gripping at my knees.
My hands went to her hips and I gripped, giving her stability, which she took, moving so that she got me deeper. And then she threw her hair back and I saw the eyes of the other men in the room move to her.
Fuck, when she whipped her hair it was sexy. I wanted to gauge their eyes out. My fingers tightened on her waist to the point she jolted.
My brain forgot the scene on the floor and was now on my wife’s back, on her sleek, straight hair falling all around her shoulders. She’d straightened it for Kruna, for her state of mind.
One of the girls in the tangle of bodies who wasn’t currently with her tongue in another girl leaned over and tried to connect by moving in to kiss Angel. But, before she got to her, I reached up and pulled Angel backwards flush against me and buried my face into her hair as she continued to ride me.
We were already crossing lines I didn’t want to cross. We weren’t crossing that one, too. My hand went around her throat possessively as I kept her against me.
What should’ve been a very private thing between us was happening in front of six Kruna slaves as well as three Kruna partners.
I glanced toward the floor. Two of the three girls being eaten out were orgasming together. The Black girl eating out a brunette was fingering herself and she started writhing while she was coming. The girl watching while Delgado fucked her with his fingers pulled on Delgado’s dick and he started coming, too.
Angel started to breathe heavier and ride harder. My wife was looking after me. At that thought, I closed my eyes, burying my face into the back of her neck, and focused on her, on all she was to me. I let it go. I came inside her.
She slumped back against me. I held her tight to me.
It washed over me then, that she was wired and there would be ears on that entire event. That, the fact that I’d been aroused by what was happening in that room, and by how my woman had taken care of me, it all filled me with deep remorse. She hadn’t come, only me. She’d been a Stepford wife and it was my fault.
The festivities on the floor continued and I saw that Gan Chen was now fucking one of the girls up the ass while that same girl went down on Delgado, who was miraculously hard already. I’d seen him pop pills at dinner. Probably dick pills.
“Excuse us, gentleman,” I said, and threw my wife over my shoulder like a piece of meat. She squealed. I bent into a squat to grab Angel’s shoes and panties and we left the Townsend room together and I headed, with purpose, dick away but pants still undone, back to our suite. Inside, I slammed the door and, Angel still over my shoulder, I grabbed the phone and dialed room service.
“Mr. Ferrano? What can I get you, Sir?” the answerer, a male with an Asian accent asked.
“A bottle of Brennivin, a pack of Marlboro reds and a lighter. Put a rush on that.”
I put the phone down and then set her down gently on the bed.
Her eyes were on me.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, staring at her. I had to get my shit together.
She was breathing heavily, staring back at me, her chest rising and falling. I couldn’t read her eyes.
I shook my head and put my index finger to my mouth, warning her not to say anything, and started to pace. I wanted to hit something. I couldn’t. I went to the bathroom and took a piss and then stared into the mirror at my reflection, disgusted with myself.