Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
"I was watching you sleep." I love his voice. It's so smooth and deep and embodies control.
"You're a little creepy, you know that?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I come home to find your clothes in a pile on the floor and you asleep in my bed. What should I have done, Sophie?"
I walk towards him. "Joined me?" I suggest.
He smiles at that. "You're twenty-one."
"Yeah." I stop in front of him. "Three years past legal."
"You're a virgin."
"Yeah." That stings. Am I not experienced enough for him? "You want me to come back when I know what I'm doing?" Tears prick at my eyes. I am so sick of the rejection. I toss the throw
at him and walk back to my clothes. "Take me home, Luke. I'm sure I can find someone on campus to spend the night with," I say, picking my sweater off the floor. "Believe it or not,
plenty of guys on campus would be happy to fuck me without so much conversation about it."
When I stand up he's behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He slides my bra straps over my shoulders before unsnapping it.
"Shut up, Sophie. I don't want to hear another word out of your flippant mouth about you sleeping with some idiot boy on campus. You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Is that what you
want?"
"Yeah." I tilt my head back onto his shoulder. "It is."
"I'm not going to call you in the morning." He's sliding my panties down my legs. "I'm not that guy."
"Okay," I agree.
Holy shit. This is happening. I am finally going to have sex. Luke is not rejecting me again. He’s not my gay boyfriend. He’s not my jerk boyfriend. He’s real and this is happening,
right now.
He's bent behind me, pulling the panties free from my ankles before placing his hands on my hips and kissing the curve of my back where it meets my behind. His hands slide lower to cup
my ass and his thumbs spread out, caressing me. "Perfect little ass." He's raining kisses over my behind as he speaks. "Do you have any idea how much I've enjoyed eyeing this ass when
you turn around to fill my coffee every week?"
I assume his question is rhetorical and remain quiet until he smacks my behind hard with his open palm. "Answer me."
I feel a rush of wetness in my pussy from the slap. What the hell? Why does that make me wet? My ass is still stinging where he smacked me. "No, I didn't know you were thinking about my
ass." It's a little hard getting the words out, I'm so distracted by everything. His mouth, his hands, the pressure building between my legs. "I didn't think you even remembered my name
week to week. I assumed you were just reading my name tag."
His thumbs pinch into my butt cheeks and spread them as he licks up the crease of my ass. Oh my God.
He turns me so I'm facing him. "Sit." He's pressing on the top of my thighs till my butt hits the edge of the bed. "Cup your tits, Sophie." I do, immediately. They're warm in my own
hands, full, my nipples hard. Luke spreads my thighs and moves between them. "Pinch your nipples, play with them." Our eyes lock as I obey.
"I seem to recall you mentioning a fascination with my fingers earlier," he says as he runs his index finger down my crease.
"Oh, God." I flop back onto the bed, mortified that he's bringing that up, and focus my eyes on the ceiling. But I don't let go of my breasts, continuing to caress them as he talks.
"Is it a fascination with my hands as a whole?" He slides both palms under my thighs and caresses them up and down before lifting my legs until my knees are bent and my feet are on the
edge of the bed, parallel to my bottom, then he pushes outward so I'm splayed open in front of him. "Or is it a fascination with a specific finger?" He places the tip of a finger inside
my entrance and rims the opening. "Or is it my thumb, Sophie?" His breath is hot against my skin as he speaks. "Do you imagine my thumb in your ass as I fuck you from behind?" His thumb
is moving across my tightened bud. "Which is it, Sophie? Which of those things did you fantasize about?"
He slaps my pussy, splayed open in front of him, hard. I moan as I feel my own wetness leak out of me. "What did I tell you about answering me?" he demands. "What did you think about
when you got yourself off?"
"I thought about all of it," I admit. "Except the thumb thing, that never occurred to me. But I'm open to it," I add.