Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
He’s gone—his mouth, his hands, his cock. And I’m flipped onto the bed and he’s over me, grabbing my legs, hooking them over his hips, gripping my jaw, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Mine for this,” he says a third time, entering me again.
My hands are stretched above my head and there isn’t a thing I can do but lie here and let him take the control over me I deny him elsewhere.
Because that’s what it’s really about for both of us. A fleeting moment in time where we truly have what we desire.
Freedom.
“You look at me as you come.” His words come as my pussy tightens around him and I hook my ankles behind his waist. “Do you hear that, Liv? You look in my fucking eyes as you come.”
I nod. I can’t look away if I wanted to. I’m mesmerized by this moment, a moment where I’m so afraid to yet so ready to relinquish control.
“Mine,” he repeats again, like he needs to tell himself it, like he can see the fear in my eyes. He grips my jaw tighter until I clench it.
Warmth.
Heat.
Pleasure.
Throbbing.
Clenching.
Tyler.
“Mine.”
It seeps through the heaviness in my mind, the swirling craziness of my release. It enriches it. The possessive, definitive word sends me on another tailspin, and I flip my arms up and forward to around his neck. His hair slinks between my fingers. His cock swells inside me. His mouth descends on mine…
He joins me in craziness, the whole time whispering the word ‘mine.’
The bed is empty and cold when I wake. Brief memories of lips ghosting mine and a whispered goodbye come to me, and I roll over onto Tyler’s side.
The pillow smells like him, and despite my previous thought, I swear the duvet is still warm where he was lying. I snuggle beneath it, pulling it right up to my face, and breathe him in.
I can count on one hand the amount of hours he’s been out of Seattle and my heart is already aching.
It aches so much that it hurts—and that’s the brutal reality of my addiction. Take the item of my craving away and I’m no different to anyone else experiencing withdrawals. I’m snappy, shaky, antsy. I’m irrational and constantly looking for the thing to sate the insatiable.
And I hurt. Everywhere. Bone-deep pain.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath. I know that being here, surrounded by something that’s so him, even if it is just his smell, isn’t a good thing. I know that I’m looking at forty-eight hours of nothing…which means I need to leave.
Now.
I roll myself out of bed with a look back to the pillow. A part of me wants to yank off the pillowcase and tuck it into my purse. But I don’t—I pull on some sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt and move my ass.
Angus’s food bowl is still full, so I pause only to grab my keys before running out the door. I run downstairs and into my car. I rev the engine with unnecessary vigor and hightail the hell out of the parking lot.
I drive on instinct, and it takes me only a few minutes to realize that I’m heading toward my parents’ place. Another safe place. A safe place without the danger.
I repeatedly glance at my phone, which is lying on the passenger’s seat. Fleeting glances that achieve nothing but confirmation that there are no messages or missed calls.
That achieves nothing but irritating me. Making me want something. Some kind of connection to him.
My chest tightens and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to concentrate on the road. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is worse than I thought.
I’m more addicted than I thought I was.
This goes beyond any comprehensible feeling.
This is a wild addiction, one that will never be tamed.
And I love it as much as I hate it.
I can feel it flooding my veins, filling every part of me with a searing need that can only be soothed by his touch. Even his voice—that would take the edge of needing him so completely off.
Because I do. I need him so fucking entirely I almost miss the turn-off to my parents’ place.
I catch it in time and swerve down the old road. It takes me just two minutes to travel down it, and as I slow, I realize that I was doing way over the limit. Shit. I’m lucky a cop didn’t drive past me.
I tug my keys from the ignition and rest my forehead against the top of the steering wheel. Air fills my lungs with my deep breaths designed to calm and sooth.
When my heart has resumed its usual rhythm, I push open my car door and step onto the drive.
The wet drive.
How the fuck did I forget my shoes?
Yet another deep breath happens. Instead of mulling over and reading into this stupid oversight of mine, I run on tiptoes toward the house and ring the bell.