Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
I don't understand why my mom looks down on it so much. Her parents wanted her to be a doctor, but she met my dad, and they fell in love. My grandparents got over it. So she should understand when I tell her I don't want this life anymore, right?
After class, I make my way to Lincoln's office. I’ve missed him terribly, and I don’t think I can make it until tonight…
The sun shines brightly through the window as I move toward him. He’s on the phone, but that doesn’t stop me from entering his office and locking the door behind me. He continues his conversation while I strip off my clothes and walk across the room. I hop up on the desk, naked, my long, black hair cascading down the side.
His eyes are fixed on me, taking in every curve and angle of my body. He barks something unintelligible into the phone before slamming it down. Without a word, he reaches down and gently pulls her to the edge of the desk, wrapping his arms around my hips. Eventually, he pushes me onto my back and pushes my thighs apart. He licks up my seam, making me moan. He makes me come on his tongue expertly before standing and opening his pants. He pulls his huge, hard cock out and strokes it. I can only stare at it as precum beads on the tip. Reaching out, I swipe at it with my thumb and suck it into my mouth. I moan at the taste. I love the way he tastes. It drives me crazy.
“Fuck, I love it when you do that, baby.”
“I missed you,” I breathe.
“I’m home now.”
“Fuck me, please,” I beg, needing him inside more than I need my next meal. He pushes his cock into me so slowly it’s like the sweetest torture. Finally, he begins to pound into me, holding onto my hips to keep from scooting away from him.
Our breaths mingle in the air as we move together, lost in the ecstasy of our love. At this moment, nothing else matters. We are two souls, united in everything.
Even after we go home, we explore each other's bodies as the night wears on. Every time feels like the first time and the millionth time. How is that possible? The passion is burning like wildfire between us. When dawn finally breaks, we lay entwined on our bed, his cock still buried deep inside of me, our bodies still slick with sweat, and our hearts full of love. At this moment, I knew we were forever.
My friend from summer camp is the super famous fashion designer Migan Jorgensen. She was actually my counselor since she’s a few years older, but she was the first person I thought of regarding my wedding dress. We stayed in touch after camp, and I was there when she married her husband, Torran. She was here in Wilmington to get accurate measurements to make my dress, which she’s already designed. I met her at her hotel yesterday, where she measured me, and then she left to get started on the dress. She wouldn’t even show me her sketches, but I trust her and know it will be gorgeous.
The ringing phone pierces through the peaceful silence of the car, jolting me out of my contemplative state. That’s my usual state these days. The phone ringing is a sound that I have grown accustomed to ignoring, as it is usually just telemarketers or wrong numbers. I'm not interested if you aren’t a contact, but something in my gut tells me to answer this one.
"Hello?" I answer hesitantly, unsure of who could be on the other end.
"Is this November?" a voice asks, crackling with static.
"Yes, this is she," I replied, my heart starting to beat faster in anticipation.
"It's me, your sister, January," the voice says, and my breath catches in my throat.
"Oh, my God," I say.
"Are you sitting down? I have some information to tell you.”
“No, I’m driving. You’re on my Bluetooth.”
“Di you have time to talk right now?”
“Yes. This is fine.”
“First, I just want to say that we are all glad that we found you. You are an auntie, and our father is Armstrong Delacroix.”
“Why does that name sound so familiar?”
“He’s the President of the United States. He was just elected to his second term last week.”
“I know, I voted for him.”
“He’ll love that.”
“Will he?”
“Yes. He’s just like he seems on TV.”
“He is?”
“Yes. He would love to meet you whenever you’re ready.”
My mind races as I try to process the information. My father is the President of the United States. How could this be true? I almost volunteered for his campaign last year, but things kept coming up, and I never made it to his headquarters in Wilmington.
“Is this a joke?” I whisper. A prank of this magnitude would send me right over the edge right about now.