Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
And prostitutes had the added benefit of no emotional attachment.
But tonight, I can’t do that. I can’t hire a girl to come out here because no one in their right mind would go out to the middle of the woods to fuck a wild beast like me.
Except Emma, that is.
Oh, fuck. Just thinking about her now is making me hard again. She was so soft and innocent, yet she took my massive cock like a champ. And watching her finger her clit was so fucking hot – I loved how she obeyed my every command like it was the law. The things I could teach a girl like that…
I want her again.
But she won’t be back.
So tonight, it’s just going to be me and my hand.
And memories of that luscious young thing named Emma.
5
Emma
“Emma, is that you?”
Mom’s voice floats into the foyer as I step inside and kick off my muddy sneakers. They’re the only thing that remains of my failed attempt at hiking with Travis, and part of me feels almost ashamed to look at them.
“Yeah!” I call back.
“Can you come in here, please?”
Biting my lip, I walk into the dining room. Thank god Mom is alone – there’s no sign of Dad.
“What is it?” I ask. “Is everything okay?”
Mom looks up at my outfit and frowns.
“Emma, that’s not a very flattering look on you,” she says. “Where did you get those clothes?”
“Urban Outfitters,” I lie. “I can always return them.” I glance down – my boobs are almost spilling out of Dane’s plaid shirt and my thighs are raw from rubbing against the jeans.
“Well, I want you to get cleaned up and then have dinner with me,” Mom continues. “Your father was supposed to be home so I ordered a special meal, but then he called to cancel. You still like lobster, right?”
I frown. How is it possible that my own mother doesn’t know my taste in food? I swell up when it comes to shellfish, but she’s too out of it to remember that fact.
“Sure,” I say nonchalantly. “I’ll be right down.”
As soon as I go upstairs and lock myself in my room, my head is flooded with thoughts of Dane once again. I can still feel his rough touch on my body – my chin is chapped from his beard rubbing against it as he fucked me. And my pussy is sore and trembling, but my clit is still throbbing with lust. Even though he made me come hard, I want more.
I wish he’d let me stay the night.
In the shower, I soap my body, thinking of Dane as I run my hands over my breasts and thighs. I’m exhausted from my ordeal and my ankle is still hurting, but I’m excited at the thought of seeing him again.
My hand strays between my legs and I accidentally brush against my clit. Gasping, I stagger and lean against the wall of the shower as my hand plays back and forth with my slippery folds. It feels so fucking good that I close my eyes and moan, pretending my wet fingers are Dane’s mouth.
The water is lukewarm by the time I’m done bringing myself to a finish. Whew. If the memory of that guy is enough to make me come in the shower, imagine what being with him would be like again. My knees shiver, but my fingers are toes are getting pruney. I have to get on with life.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my wet body and get dressed in a fresh pair of panties, yoga pants, and my favorite hoodie. Even though my family has a lot of money, I’ve never really been a clotheshorse. My curves are big and frankly, most designer clothes don’t fit me. They seem to be built for girls with concave chests and stick-like legs, and not someone who’s got Double D’s and an ample bottom.
But it’s okay. Dane clearly loved it, and I smile to myself before wandering downstairs to find my mother at the table with lobster thermidor in front of her. It smells good, but not great. It’s even a little bland after Dane’s amazing stew.
“Now, I know you should be watching your figure, Emma, but really, this is too good to go to waste.”
I frown. Dane had loved the way I ate with gusto. He even gave me seconds. I sit down and pick at the lobster without actually putting any in my mouth. My mom, of course, begins droning on and on.
“You know, Emma, your dad and I have been talking,” she begins. Oh no, it’s coming. I can feel it in the air.
“What, Mom?” I ask sulkily. “You want me to straighten my hair again, right? And dye it blonde? Because then I’ll look like all the society ladies you associate with?”