Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“That’s what boobs are for,” she slurs. “To hold stuff. Like an extra pocket.”
“Another one of life’s mysteries explained. Thanks, MiMi.”
I turn her to face me, allowing my eyes to roam down her body. My heart does a flop inside my chest as I admire her curvy body. Tits normally don’t do shit for me. Mia’s intrigue me. I have the insane urge to taste each nipple. My dick thickens and I thank every god in existence for the fact it’s working.
Now’s not the time to consider if I can actually ever fuck Mia. Right now, I need to care for my girl. I snag my toothbrush and toothpaste from the holder on the way to the shower. Once inside, I lead her under the spray. She sighs, tilting her head up as the water drenches her face and hair. With her eyes closed and the water sluicing down her tits, I decide I really, really like her tits. Her nipples are hard, just begging to be bitten.
Love knows no labels.
Maybe Drew was right.
Before my mind can drift to Drew and his naked body, I focus on my girl. I squirt some toothpaste on my brush and then grip her now clean chin.
“Open up, MiMi. I need to wash that expensive mistake out of your mouth.”
She opens her big brown eyes and parts her lips. Jesus. I love this girl. I want her and need her. I can’t believe I ever doubted it.
I brush her teeth for her, enjoying immensely how cute she is foaming at the mouth. Once I’ve scrubbed her clean, I lead her back under the spray. As she rinses, I drop the toothbrush on a shelf and grab the bar of soap. My hands are eager to clean her, but she’s drunk and I don’t want her to be pissed later. Instead of touching her like I want, I hand her the bar of soap.
Sloppily she cleans her body while I shampoo her hair. My dick is hard, much to my delight, as I wash the puke out of her hair. She turns to face me, the soap slipping from her grip and hitting the floor with a thud.
“Ashton,” she whimpers. “Why am I not enough?”
I rinse the shampoo out and then grip her hair, tilting her face up to look at me. My lips press to her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips.
“Mia,” I rumble. “You’re more than enough. You’re too much. I don’t deserve one sliver of you, but I need you all the same.”
Her lips part and I kiss her. Softly. Gentle at first. And then my tongue is greedily lashing against hers. She slides her soapy palms up my chest to my shoulders, her body pressing against my front. Her tits are firm and an odd sensation pushed against me, but one I like. My dick is stone against her stomach.
The urge to grip her ass and lift her is strong.
I could fuck her right now.
I’m hard. I could do it. I know I could.
But the first time I attempt this with Mia, it needs to be once we’ve cleared the air between us. She’s drunk and I would die if she regretted this in the morning.
Don’t be destructive, Ashton.
Think of your girl, not your dick for once.
“Let’s get you dried off and into bed, baby. You need sleep,” I murmur against her lips. “In the morning we can talk.”
She nods. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“I’ll always rescue you, Mia.”
Her groan wakes me up. The room is still dark, but dawn is creeping into my bedroom. I roll over onto my side, staring at her pretty face that’s barely visible in the dim light. A dark, still-damp tendril of hair is draped across her face. I gently brush it away.
“Morning,” she murmurs, her eyes opening just a bit. “Is this a dream?”
“Hmm,” I tease. “I’d call it more of a fantasy. Some hot swimmer rescues you from a pedophile bartender and wicked sorority sister and bathes you after you showered yourself in two-thousand-dollar gin. Are you into it?”
She scrunches her face. “Yuck. That’s more like a nightmare.”
“Which part?” I murmur, dragging my thumb along her jaw.
“Maybe not the naked shower part with the hot swimmer.” Her smile undoes me. “Definitely the barf part, though. Yuck. You hate puke.”
“But I love you,” I tell her, no longer joking. My voice drips with conviction. “You know that, right?”
Her head nods as tears well in her eyes.
“Mia,” I murmur. “I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. I’ve acted like a total asshole and it’s unforgivable. I swear, I can be better than this. For you. You have to let me try, because if you don’t, what the fuck am I even living this life for?”
She blinks hard, sending tears skating down her temples. “Don’t talk like that.”