Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Carter moves his hand from my mouth after only a minute, telling me, “I hear your voice, I smack your ass. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Fuck you,” I spit back.
His low growl sends a thrill down my spine, then Carter’s hand comes down across my ass and I let out a little yelp, clutching his bed sheets and holding on for dear life as he fucks me harder. I’m too close to the edge of the bed for him to be thrusting this hard. It’s hard to think straight when he takes me like this, but a sudden awareness of how much closer I’m moving to the edge with every thrust has me grabbing for purchase and trying to stop him, for real.
“Carter, wait.”
He ignores me, pounding into me even harder.
“Carter, stop,” I call out, unsure how to get his attention. “I’m serious, I need to—”
With one more brutal drive, he sends me right off the edge of the bed. My arms shoot out and I catch myself on the ground a split second after our bodies disconnect. I roll to a sitting position and start to laugh, feeling stupid for literally falling off his bed, but Carter cuts off my laughter, grabbing me and shoving me down on the floor.
Oh, shit.
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I feel myself get even wetter. Before I can utter a sound, he grabs my hips, positions me, and shoves his cock back inside me. My insides explode with sensation and I try to put my palms on the floor to brace myself, but as soon as I try, he knocks my hand out from under me and pushes me down face first.
“Ass up.”
Lust coils through me, even as he moves inside me. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I can’t get enough tonight. Maybe he needs it more than usual and my body is responding to that. I love to give him what he needs. I love to be what he needs. He’s the one with two rounds left, and I’m the one dreading the last time this happens.
The last time.
Sadness lands like a boulder in my gut. Even if I let him keep playing these games with me for the rest of senior year, it has to end when he goes off to college. We’re going to school too far apart, and I know firsthand now, Carter will not go without sex. If he can’t get it from me, he’ll get it elsewhere. Long distance won’t work with him. No way.
My own thoughts screw me over, dampening the arousal that has been building since Carter got me back to his house after the movie I swore I wouldn’t go to with him. We were barely inside his bedroom when he told me to get on my knees and pay my debt. As expected, a blow job turned into sex, and the sex got dirty. It’s hard to build to a climax when you’re dousing yourself in sadness though, and Carter isn’t in a giving mood tonight to begin with.
I can tell by his increased speed and the guttural noises as he takes my pussy that he’s getting close. Shit. I missed my chance. Stupid brain, wandering too far off base.
Sure enough, a moment later, Carter drives deep and groans as he shoots his release inside me. I clench my feminine muscles, squeezing him as he does, trying to maximize his pleasure.
When he finishes, he collapses beside me on the floor and pulls me into his arms. I snuggle close and rest my head on his bicep. It’s not a comfy pillow, and the floor certainly isn’t as welcoming as the bed, but I know he just came, so he’s probably not eager to stand up and relocate right now. I’m feeling cuddly anyway, so I wrap my arms around him and hold him close.
Once he catches his breath and his heartbeat returns to a steady pace, he looks over and asks me, “You all right?”
With a little smile, I nod my head. “Yeah.”
“I couldn’t tell if you meant it this time,” he admits, looking up at the ceiling. “When you were asking me to stop.”
“Oh. Well, I did, but only because I could feel myself about to fall off the bed. If I’m going to have bruises from you fucking me, I’d prefer it not be because I fell off the bed.”
That catches his attention and he looks over at me, slightly alarmed. “Have I bruised you?”
“Just a little. Barely worth mentioning. Sometimes you grab a little harder than I think you mean to, and you have the strong hands of an athlete, go figure. I get the occasional thumb print.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
I smile faintly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s usually not anywhere someone would see it, anyway. Maybe if I’m wearin’ a bikini, but oddly enough, I don’t spend a lot of time in a bikini.”