Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Apprehension tickles at me. “Carter, wait. I don’t want—I’m not ready—”
“Relax,” he tells me smoothly, pushing me closer to the center of the bed. I hear the zipper of his dark wash jeans, the rustle of fabric as he takes his clothes off, too.
Shit.
The bed dips as Carter climbs on. His dick brushes my leg so I know he’s naked, but I’m still wearing a bra and panties. I don’t like not being able to see anything.
“Carter, I don’t want to lose my virginity like this,” I tell him, panic starting to make its way up my throat.
“I won’t take your virginity yet,” he assures me, catching my hand and pressing his lips against it. “Relax. We’re just going to have a little fun.”
I do relax a little, but I don’t know what he means by yet. “You mean, tonight? I don’t want to lose my virginity tonight,” I specify.
“All right.”
“You won’t—you won’t take it?” I ask, needing verification.
“Not tonight,” he tells me.
Relief settles over me and I can breathe a little easier. Now that he’s reassured me he won’t take more than I’m willing to allow, the tenseness leaves my body. Carter feels around to find the outline of me in the dark, then he slides down, hooks his fingers inside my panties, and drags them down.
I’m not surprised when he presses the palm of his hand against the inside of my leg and follows the path up to the juncture between my thighs. I expect that. What I don’t expect is for him to then plant himself between my legs, hook one arm around my thigh, spread the other one wider, and lean in until I can feel his breath on my pussy.
I jump, startled. Before I can muster an objection, he spreads me open and pushes his tongue inside me, lighting my nerve endings up as effectively as a finger plugged into a socket. I gasp, clutching fistfuls of bed sheet, and throw my head back into the cool pillow beneath my head.
“Oh, Carter,” I say, breathless.
His tongue is as aggressive inside my pussy as it is inside my mouth. I’ve never felt anything like this—not when I’ve touched myself, not even when he touched me. I can’t keep still, twisting and writhing away from his tongue. It’s a counterintuitive thing to do because I love what he’s doing to me with it, but my body is too lit up to be sensible.
Carter’s grip on me tightens and he yanks me a little closer. “Stay put,” he orders.
Instead of obeying, I tell him, “No.”
He lifts his head and cocks an eyebrow. “No?”
“That’s right, no,” I say, infusing just enough playfulness into my tone to invite him to play along. “I’m not here to be your plaything, Carter. Get off me.”
Catching on, he moves up my body, grabs my wrists, and pins them to the bed, hard. His voice is low and infused with more danger than I expect when he says, “Don’t tell me no, princess.”
My heart races, even though I invited this. I’m not scared, not really, but my body’s signals are all knotted up, excitement firing from the wrong cylinders. Wetness gathers between my legs, and not just from him teasing me with his tongue.
Since I don’t say anything back, he hovers close and asks, “Now, are you going to stop fighting me and be a good girl?”
“Make me,” I shoot back.
I’m improvising as I go, walking a tight rope, hoping there’s a safety net beneath me. There’s nothing tentative in Carter, though. He’s like a bull I just waved a red flag in front of. My hands are suddenly free, but before I can decide what I should do with them, Carter grabs me and flips me over onto my stomach.
My heart somersaults as his body comes down on top of mine, then he murmurs low in my ear, like a secret can be kept even though we’re the only ones in the room, “Fight me.”
My stomach plummets with the danger and excitement of it. I do, though. I try to push off the bed, to shoulder him off me. I don’t know how hard to fight because I don’t actually want to hurt him, but that’s probably an absurd worry. Carter can handle me at full force like it’s nothing, so I can probably fight as hard as I want.
My skin heats with the surge of energy rushing through my veins and I try harder to shove him off. “Get off me or I’ll scream,” I threaten.
“Try it, princess. I’ll fill that pretty little throat so full of my cock, you’ll scarcely be able to breathe.”
That threat pierces the playfulness for me, because I remember when he actually did that to me, and it wasn’t fun, it was terrifying. It occurs to me that before deciding on a whim to cannonball into this sort of game, I should have told him what I don’t like, or established some sort of signal that I’m serious so I can stop him if I need to.