Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Her blonde hair cascaded down the sides of her face and her body shined bright against the dim lighting of the room. Her creamy white skin looked as inviting as her legs that were spread wide open as she leaned back into the cushions.
Waiting.
We locked eyes.
Her sultry blue eyes scanned me over as she licked her lips ever so slightly, making my cock twitch. By the look on her face, she liked what she saw.
The feeling was very fucking mutual.
“You look a lot older than fifteen,” she said, breaking the silence with her fuck me eyes. “Your daddy paid a lot of money to have me here tonight. We have more in common than you think, Alejandro. I’m a prodigy too. One day, I’ll be the Madam and you’ll be God.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, not understanding.
“I’m a VIP. Very Important Pussy. I’m the best you will ever fucking taste, and I’m going to show you the time of your life, birthday boy. So, the question really is, what hole do you want to fuck me in first?” she rasped, sucking in her lower lip.
I slowly made my way over to her, just out of reach. One hand placed in my pocket, trying to conceal my excitement, and the other rubbing my chin, contemplating my next move. Taking in every last inch of her body, right down to her exposed pussy. It was my turn to lick my lips, desperately wanting to drop to my knees and devour it.
“You don’t say much, do you?” she asked, bringing my gaze back to hers.
“What’s your name?”
“Anything you want it to be.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She smirked. “Lilith. My name is Lilith.”
“How appropriate. How old are you, Lilith?”
“Old enough. Besides a lady never tells her age.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not a lady,” I scoffed, tilting my head. Trying to guess.
She held back a smile. “I’m a few years older than you. I think we’re going to be very good friends one day, Alejandro,” she purred, getting onto her hands and knees and crawling toward me.
She peered up at me through her long, dark lashes and although she was gorgeous, she wasn’t who I wanted her to be. But who was I to stop her when she pulled out my cock and deep throated it like the goddamn pro she was. Leaving a ring of bright red lipstick around my shaft.
I spent the rest of the night fucking her in every possible position known to man. I lost my virginity to a whore, all because my father was proud of me for murdering a man. If that wasn’t fucked up…
Then I don’t know what is.
“Amari? You up here?” I called out, climbing up the ladder to the attic.
We used to play up there when we were kids, and as we got older, it turned into a safe place to escape life. Even if only for a few minutes. It was our safe haven.
They say time heals all wounds, and I began to believe it. Six months passed since my birthday, and over the last few weeks, Amari started feeling comfortable enough to be around me again. Casually starting conversations with me that weren't forced, asking me for help on her homework, and even coming into my room to watch movies together. Little things like that gave me hope that maybe one day she would look at me the way she used to.
With love.
She was leaning against the far wall, looking out the window. A daisy hung from her fingertips, with its pedals scattered by her feet. It had been her favorite flower since we were kids.
“He loves me, he loves me not,” I heard her whisper.
I didn’t need to ask who she was thinking of, it was Michael, a white-ass boy we went to school with all our lives. Her first real crush. She had loved him for as long as I could remember. Blushing like a little schoolgirl anytime he acknowledged her. They had officially been together a year, much to my father’s dismay. It took him years to finally accept that Amari wouldn’t date any of the guys he kept bringing around for her.
We all knew he wanted her to have an arranged marriage. Our dad didn’t care if his daughter was going to be loved, or if her husband was going to be faithful. No, none of that mattered. Our dad cared about what they could offer our family. More power, more territories, more soldiers.
More, more, more.
Our mom constantly reminded him that he married for love, and he needed to give Amari and I the same chance. After years of constantly going back and forth with it, she was finally allowed to start dating Michael.
“Hey,” she greeted as I sat down next to her, leaning forward to rest my arms on my knees.