Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
That’s an understatement.
It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Jackson sighs, as if regretful for what he’s about to do, and rolls from my body. When he slips out of me, I feel empty. When he leaves the bed, I feel cold and unsure.
Wordlessly, he pads to the bathroom, and I have a moment of indecision. When I walked into his room earlier, he was ready to push me back out.
He told me there was entanglement, and while we haven’t resolved what this actually is or what it might become, it’s clear things have gotten personal, and that’s bothering him.
Throughout the course of our fight that led to him goading me to be a brat, which led to him spanking me, which led to stupendous sex, Jackson gave in and decided to give this a go. But what are we doing? I can’t tell where we stand, but because it’s a worry to him—an emotional entanglement—I’m guessing he’d like to keep this sex only and I should go back to my room. I think I know this is never going to be anything more. I’m sure that’s what he wants, even though it’s not what I want.
Not wanting to rock the boat, I make my decision and scramble out of the bed. I locate my panties first, bend over, and lift one foot to slide them back on.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jackson says, and I glance up to see him framed in the bathroom doorway. Because I can’t help myself, I look and notice the condom is gone. That is what he must’ve been doing.
His sudden appearance and the fact I’m bent over with one foot raised and my head lifted throws me off balance, and I have to release my panties and straighten before I topple. “I was getting dressed… to go back to my room. To sleep.”
Jackson cocks an eyebrow. “But we’re not finished.”
I flush warm, eyes glancing to that area between his legs that was just so hard not that long ago. It sure looks like it’s finished.
He laughs and walks toward me. “I need to recharge first, but we have the night.”
“The night?” I ask hesitantly, not sure what he means. I am confused even as he pulls me into his arms, embracing me tightly before leaning down to kiss me.
It’s almost feels… real. Just a mere hug with a kiss, indicating no sexual want, only the desire to touch me.
Tipping his head, he nuzzles my neck and murmurs, “Get back in bed. Do you want some water?”
I nod mutely, and when he releases me to go to the mini fridge, I scramble onto the bed, pushing the pillows up against the headboard so I can sit against them. In a rush of modesty, I slip under the covers and pull them over my breasts.
When Jackson turns around with a bottle of water in hand, he smirks. “Why so shy, Princess?”
“I’m not,” I insist but tuck my arms in tight to hold the covers in place.
“And if I ordered you to get rid of the blankets because I enjoy looking at your body?” he inquires as he moves to the bed to stare down at me.
I lift my chin, figuring there will be times I’m going to be defiant. It might result in a spanking, but that’s not always a bad thing. Moreover, I know Jackson doesn’t truly want me to be a puppet. “I’m cold.”
Tipping his head back to laugh, he says, “Fair enough.”
Jackson slips under the covers and when he’s propped against the headboard beside me—our arms, hips, and legs touching—he uncaps the bottle and hands it over.
I bring it to my lips, take a few long pulls, and hand it to him. He doesn’t hesitate, drinking several gulps himself. He takes the cap from me, puts it back on, and sets the bottle on the bedside table.
Then… he pulls me against him, sliding an arm behind me and turning me onto my hip so I’m snuggled into his body.
I’m frozen because I didn’t ever think cuddling would come after what started as just pure reaction to attraction. Yes, there are feelings, but again… expiration date, and neither of us wants to fall any deeper.
But the magic of his warm body and the way I feel both cherished and protected is too much for me to keep at a metaphorical arm’s length, so I choose to sink into him and slide my arm across his belly.
We stay that way for a few moments, the quiet in no way awkward. I concentrate on the steady thump of his heart under my ear, and it personifies the man.
He’s steady, if nothing else.
But then I don’t enjoy the quiet or his heartbeat, and I move back into my head to the confusion as to what this is. I need to know where we stand, and then I can choose to move forward or not. I need to know if my heart will get bruised.