Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Well, damn.
My gaze nervously flicks toward the door, making sure that I’m not about to have one of the boys barge in on me. I’m no prude, my bedside drawer is proof of that, but if I’m experimenting with something new, then I like to make sure that I have the hang of it before inviting friends to play.
I turn down the heat, not wanting to burn my kitty and slowly lower the showerhead down my body as an excited thrill shoots through me.
I bite my bottom lip, the anticipation almost too much.
It trails over my ribs, down past my belly button, and then BAM, it hits my clit with a firm, relentless pulsation. I suck in a gasp, my eyes widening in surprise. “Holy fuck.”
Wowza. How have I never tried this before?
I get myself in a better position and instantly start laughing at just how good this is. My eyes roll into the back of my head and my pussy quickly starts begging for a release. It’s so fast and strong. Every nerve in my body is telling me to pull away, to ease up and take my time while my pussy is begging for it hard and fast.
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like this. It’s like going from zero to one hundred in a flick of a finger. Hell, screw hiding this from the boys. This thing is a party trick. I need to get them up here stat and show them just how magical this thing is.
Who would have ever known that I’d become instant best friends with a showerhead?
The water pulsates over my clit, relentlessly forcing my pussy into submission. I fall back against the wall, unable to hold myself up as I spread my legs as far as I possibly can. My orgasm builds and I know that it will only be a matter of time before it tears through me and shatters me from the inside out.
Hell, I’m going to need a few hours of sleep after this.
The music cuts off and a chilling voice echoes through my bathroom. “Fucking hell. I knew you were a whore, but I never expected this.”
The showerhead drops from my hand, spraying up the side of the shower as my head snaps up, my heart racing for a whole new reason.
Paris Moustaff stands in my bathroom doorway, a knife in her hand and disgust stretched across her face.
I gape, unable to think of what to do. I’m standing here naked as the day I was born with my legs spread, my pussy wound up and right on the edge while the spray from the showerhead is pointed up towards the ceiling and is currently redecorating my bathroom.
What do I do?
My only option is to run, but I can’t get through the door without passing her. I’m going to have to beat her ass, but how? I have no weapons, no formal training, and an abdomen full of stitches, while she comes fully prepared. I don’t even have my brass knuckles. I took the fucking things off thinking that I’d be safe in the shower.
Where the fuck are the boys? A second ago, I was more than happy that they hadn’t been up here to check on me, but I take it all back. An hour is a long time for them not to at least walk by. Something has to be wrong.
I have to make a break for it.
Seeing the resolve in my eyes, Paris straightens in the doorway, her hand gripping the knife even tighter. She takes a step deeper into the bathroom and my chance at getting out of here quickly begins to dwindle.
I run.
I barge out of the shower, throwing the door open so hard that it shatters against the wall and breaks into a million pieces. My feet slam down against the broken glass, flying out of here with a desperation that makes me feel as though I’m running much slower than I need to be going.
Paris’ eyes shimmer with excitement, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what she wanted. Does she get off on the chase? Does she like being the one in control who gets to sit back and watch everyone around her shitting themselves out of fear?
She’s fucking deranged.
I throw my hands up and try to shove her out of my way. The only shot I’ve got at freedom is getting through this bathroom door and out of my bedroom. From there, she’s got nothing. I might have a stab wound in my abdomen, but youth is on my side. I might not be a great fighter or clever enough to outsmart her, but I’ve been running my whole life. Running from predators, running from foster homes, running from assholes with bad intentions. If I can outrun them, I can outrun this bitch.