Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
The lake.
Young people in our town go there to make out. And much, much more.
“Ayla…if I bring you there…”
“I know.”
“I’m going to fuck you every way I can bend you.”
Her breath releases in a giant rush. “I know.”
I’ve snatched her up around the waist and lifted her off the stoop before those words have faded from the air. This is my chance to put a baby in her belly. Make her mine forever. She’s asking me for it. No…now she’s wrapping her legs around my waist and kissing my neck, begging me softly with her little mewling noises. I’m royally fucked.
One last shred of decency must be left inside of me, though, because I ask, “Are you on birth control?” The part of me that is desperate for Ayla to have a bright future and everything she wants hopes the answer is yes. The beastly part wants it to be no. “The pill? Anything?”
She blinks a few times. “Uh-huh. I’m on the pill.”
I’m not sure which side of me is winning—the depraved animal or the conscientious boyfriend—but I can only nod and carry her eagerly to the car, firmly ignoring the ripple of intuition that she’s not telling me the truth. And being fucking elated by her lie.
five
Ayla
I lied.
It’s a big lie.
I’m not on the pill. I turned beet red when the doctor brought it up at my last physical. My father was in the room, too, and he couldn’t even look at me for days afterward. At the mere mention of birth control. Now I’m going to the lake with Flynt and it’s understood that he’s going to…that we’re going to…
Basically, my virginity is as good as gone.
In lieu of fanning my face, I roll down the passenger side window and let the morning air attempt to cool my fevered skin. It doesn’t help. Flynt’s hand is under my skirt, massaging the top of my thigh. His expression is nothing short of wolfish and he can barely keep his eyes on the road. That heated gaze rakes over my breasts every few seconds, his breathing growing more and more labored, the zipper of his jeans straining.
I’m really doing this. Giving myself to Flynt.
Last night, I fully intended to remain mad at Flynt for the rest of my life. He could sit in my yard until the end of time looking like death warmed over and I wouldn’t cave. Not. A. Chance. Even if I was lying in bed sweating, tossing and turning thinking about how he touched me in chemistry class. Like he knew every single inch of me by heart.
No matter how hard I tried to replicate what he did to give myself release, nothing worked. It’s him. He’s part of the pleasure. A huge part. And there’s no denying it to myself, especially when I walked out of my house today and saw the roses. My mother’s car, restored. In that moment, I felt myself topple backwards into love.
I’ve been poised to fall for years, but it has finally happened.
I’m in love with Flynt.
Maybe I should give myself a day to think about what I’m really doing here. I’m potentially surrendering the future I have planned…for another one entirely. If I have unprotected sex with Flynt, there’s a very good chance I could get pregnant. And there’s something inside of me, something deep and dark and undiscovered…that loves that possibility. The thought of carrying this man’s baby stiffens my nipples into tight buds and makes me want to pet myself in between the legs.
When I imagine him thrusting inside of me until he spends, when I think of him leaving a part of himself inside of me, I get so breathlessly excited, I can’t sit still. I want it now.
What is happening to me?
I have to restrain myself from climbing into his lap at a red light and begging for him to release inside of me right now. Right now, Daddy.
Before we reach the lake, I should tell Flynt the truth. That I’m not on the pill. We could use a condom and I could visit the doctor tomorrow, actually get on the pill and do this right. It’s not fair to take the choice out of his hands. He’s only eighteen. Obviously, he doesn’t want a baby yet. What man his age does? He might have claimed he wants to marry me, but for all I know, he meant ten years in the future. When we’re the right age.
But we draw closer and closer to the lake and my mouth stays closed, keeping my lie locked deep inside. I don’t want him to hesitate. Or back out. Nor do I want a single thing between us. Something new and sordid inside of me has taken over and it feels good. For now, it feels so glorious, I couldn’t turn it off if I wanted to.