Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
I nip her bottom lip too.
She whimpers, but instead of trying to writhe and squirm away, now she’s clutching me. Clutching me with her legs and her sweet pussy.
“I wanna know what your blood tastes like too,” I tell her and then I bite her luscious breast, drawing blood while continuing to thrust my cock into her tight, quivering heat over and over.
She screams as she comes, whimpering hard while I continue to thrust.
Her eyes are wild, our skin is damp from the shower, from sweat, and suddenly I want to stop rutting her long enough to mark her with my cum. Paint her beautiful, nude body with it. The idea has my balls tightening, my spine tingling, as I release her wrists, pull out and fist my cock, sending ribbons of pearly white all over her stomach, her tits, even hitting her chin.
She lies still, staring at me with shock. Her mouth is open. Her eyes are wide. I see something new, though I can’t assess it because I’m feeling. Feeling my orgasm. Feeling satisfaction roll through me both physically and emotionally because she’s wearing streaks of me. The blood from my lip on her chin. The print of my teeth on her breast with a tiny drop of blood where I broke the skin.
I lean over and lick the droplet away, then I collapse on top of her and kiss her again and again, on her mouth, her jaw, each of her eyelids, her throat.
“Now we need to finish that shower,” I say and lift her up and carry her back to the bathroom.
The shower is still running. Perfect.
I set her on her feet, grab the sponge from the tiled floor near the drain, and soap it up again.
As I wash her, she’s staring at me like she’s stunned. Like she’s just seen something she can’t believe, maybe. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I can’t get enough of her. I might have just hit a new level of obsessed.
After I wash her off, I soap the sponge up again and start on myself. She tries to sneak out, so I catch her wrist.
“Chloe.” I lift it and press my lips to her hand with a kiss. “We need to be at my parents’ at eleven. We’ll leave at ten-thirty. Can you wear one of the blue dresses, please? For me?”
She frowns.
I kiss her hand again and flash her a smile.
She pulls away, swallowing nervously, but doesn’t answer.
It’s not a full on trembling I’m doing, but I keep getting hand tremors and belly swoops as I try to get ready amid lots of hot whooshes between my thighs. Because I keep getting flashbacks.
He was like an animal devouring me. He bit me. He drew my blood. Licked it. Came on my skin. If he could’ve written his name on me in semen, I think he would have. He looked supremely pleased with himself as he did it.
This wasn’t going through the motions to do what he thought I’d like. This was what he wanted. And it was visceral, carnal, primal.
And then he carried me into the shower and painstakingly washed me clean, kissing me, smiling at me the whole time. Inadvertently tickling my feet as he even got between my toes. I didn’t laugh, though. I just got increasingly uncomfortable and fidgety with the whole thing.
And now the swoony psycho wants me to wear a pretty dress to meet his parents.
This ought to be interesting.
I look through the clothing he sent and am miffed about the fact that the two blue dresses do seem to be the most suitable for a brunch with fancy, rich people. I wasn’t planning to wear one of the blue ones and have him think I did it to please him, it’s just that the other dresses are either too business-like, too sexy, or more for a vacation or an afternoon wandering antique shops or farmer’s markets. The two blue dresses are both perfect for a brunch at a significant other’s parents – not that I think of him as my other half – but I decide on the slightly demurer option.
I grab the dress, some of the new underthings, and a pair of the new shoes, some strappy espadrilles. As he slips out in a towel, I move back toward the bathroom, since that’s where all my makeup and hair stuff is.
His eyes flash with heat as he sees which dress I’m taking in with me and he crowds me, making sure I see the smile as I try to glide by him on my way back in.
I say nothing as I close the door over, but it won’t close tight, because he broke it. The latch is hanging by just one screw.
I shake my head as I survey the damage and then decide to get on with this. Today ought to be interesting, hopefully presenting an opportunity to talk to a member of the Steele family about this problem. Since I don’t know what to make of his sister, I’ll be assessing the rest of them in an effort to choose the one most likely to help.