Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
He’s jealous.
He’s really jealous.
I’m glad I’m a tart tonight. I’m glad I’m wearing slutty suspenders with my tits out on display. I’m glad my skin feels so chilled all of a sudden in the night air.
I’m glad he’s seeing me like this.
I’m glad he came for me.
The angel on my shoulder is freaking out. I feel sparks of panic underneath the thrill.
I’m with work colleagues on a night out. Actual work colleagues who gossip and laugh and pry, and would want to know who the fuck this crazy hot guy is.
I’ll never ever live it down if they catch him with his hand down my knickers. It’ll be all over the office before I even step foot in there tomorrow.
“You’ll do exactly what I say or I’ll parade you out there with your cunt on display and fuck you in front of everyone, loverboy included. Understand?”
I nod.
I take a deep breath when he pulls his hand away. I spin to face him before he can grab me.
“He’s not my loverboy,” I whisper. “He’s just a friend. A co-worker.”
“A friend who’s got designs on that tight little cunt of yours.”
“He can have all the designs he wants,” I say. “He won’t be getting any.” Even in the shadows I see the darkness in his expression. Drink makes me brave. Brave enough to press my body tight to his. “Are you jealous?”
He laughs a low laugh. It doesn’t convince me any. “Do I seem like the jealous type?”
“You do right now,” I tell him.
“You’re a drunk little tart on a night out. I’d just rather it was me who pounded that hot little slit of yours.”
“You don’t need to be jealous,” I whisper. “You’re all I think about. I hope you’re waiting around every corner. I fall asleep with my fingers between my legs, pretending they’re yours.”
I gasp as he grabs my arms. Stifle a whimper as he slams me hard into the wall.
“No pretending necessary tonight.” His voice is raspy. Dangerous. He lifts my dress up around my waist, tugs my knickers to the side.
He’s going to fuck me here, just a few paces away from people who know me. Close enough that they’ll probably hear the wetness.
He can’t do this here. We can’t do this here.
“We should move,” I whisper, and his weight presses tight on my back.
“We’ll do what I fucking say we’re going to do,” he growls. “I might even take that pretty asshole of yours while I’m here.”
“Please don’t.” I shiver. “Not here. I won’t be able to stay quiet…”
“What makes you think I fucking care?”
And oh fuck how I want it. Holy fuck, how I want him. His brutal touch, his painful cock. I want it all.
I can’t help but whimper as he pushes a finger in my ass. I squirm against the weight of him as he circles it deep. “Tight,” he grunts. “You’ll scream when I take you. You’ll be a gaping fucking wreck when I’m done.”
“Please…” I hiss, and I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
“I’m gonna fuck your ass until you scream for me,” he says. I take a gulp of breath. “But not tonight.”
The disappointment hits easily as hard as the relief.
I flinch as he tears my knickers off. I cringe at how loud the ripping fabric sounds.
“Let’s make this easier for you,” he whispers. I struggle against him as he shoves the wet lace into my open mouth, but there’s nowhere to go. I taste myself, and I taste fucking dirty. Wanton. A slut in a tiny red dress.
He edges me closer to the corner, I screw my eyes closed tight as my friends come into view.
“Look at them,” he orders, and I do. I burn with humiliation. Scorching with embarrassment at the prospect of them finding me with my knickers in my mouth and his monster dick inside me.
He tugs my dress from my tits so sharply I hear the fabric tear. I just hope it stays functional enough to hide my modesty later.
He flattens me to the brickwork. The wall is like sandpaper against tender skin. My nipples graze and spark. My legs threaten to buckle.
“Loverboy won’t fuck you like I can, I promise you,” he says, and thrusts four fucking fingers at my pussy. I spread my legs to take them, sucking in air through my nose. His other hand wraps around to strum my clit. I’m writhing against his touch even as his fingers force me open. “He’ll never give you what you need.”
He’s preaching to the converted, but I fucking love it.
I buck against his fingers for more. I reach back for him, desperate.
I want so much to see him. To feel him. To taste his mouth on mine.
But it’s not going to be tonight.
Tonight is going to be painful. Sharp. Beautiful.
I’m ready for it when it comes, even if my body isn’t. His fingers are still on my clit as he fumbles with his jeans.