Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I hate her just as much as I want to fuck her.
She’s off limits, yet ever so enticing.
No words have ever passed between us. No glances from her direction. She doesn’t see anyone but herself. Or should I say, she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone else.
But I’ve seen her, with her long blonde hair and the way she always straightens her clothes. I imagine those hands running all over me the same way she has them running all over her.
My nails pick at the orange in my hand while I watch her walk in the rain, her hair becoming wet, but she doesn’t care like other girls do. No, she just runs a hand over her head then continues on like she’s not sopping wet and walks into school.
Stalker, that’s what I’ve become.
How did that ever happen without me realizing?
Seeing her one day and stalking her the next.
The first time I saw her she was standing behind Livia Tyler, her cousin. She was looking down at the floor, and I immediately thought how submissive she’d be in the bedroom. How I could bend her over and take her from behind, without so much as a struggle. She would take it, and she would love it. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Livia, on the other hand, I’m not sure... would be work? Not that I don’t like some work to get who I want. I just prefer my women one way.
Girls have never been a problem, to try or to taste. Not once have I had an issue bedding a woman. They have always come willingly, from the moment I started to realize what my cock was for, and, man, have I used it.
I excel at sex.
But her...
I would love it so much more if Saskia Tyler were in my bed.
I love to hate her.
There’s nothing in between.
My hand itches to touch myself, to wrap my hands around my cock and stroke it right here and now as I watch Saskia walk the halls of school with her head down watching each step she takes.
Does she know I hate her, but at the same time want her?
I have to adjust myself because she’s getting closer, and if she looks up and notices me the way I am right now—she may very well hate me as much as I hate her.
Saskia aka Barbie Tyler.
I want to bend and snap her in ways that shouldn’t be legal or even written about. I want to fuck her so hard, all she can see and hear is me. Nothing else should leave those lips all night. Nothing but my name.
Saskia turns to look behind her, her hair falls in front of her face, and she pulls it back so it doesn’t go in her eyes.
I want to pull at it.
Hard and unwavering.
Shaking my head, I stand back. There are other students walking in behind her. Her cousin isn’t too far back and her friend, the gay one, is talking to someone else. She hasn’t noticed them yet, but she will.
Could I steal a few moments with her, just to smell the vanilla that lingers on her skin? The things I could do if I only had one taste.
“Ryken.” I hear my name called and it’s one of the teachers. My cock’s hard as granite, so I try to think about dead cats to see if it will soften. It doesn’t work because I’m about to lose my opportunity to speak to Saskia. To touch her, to make sure she’s real and not some made-up perfect doll I’ve created in my head.
My very own sex toy Barbie doll.
Mmm, doesn’t that sound enticing?
Nodding my head to the teacher once, I step out of the room looking straight at Saskia. She’s walking my way, her head down. Her hands on her clothes trying to get rid of the water that’s not moving. It will dry eventually, but she wants it gone straight away.
Looking past Saskia, her cousin glances up and I watch the way she stares at me. It’s the same way my father’s female employees look at me. They want something, or me. Looking back down, I step over to her. If she looks up right at this second, she’ll see that I’ve done it on purpose, and that I could have stopped if I chose to. I just decided not to. My body wants to slam into hers to feel every curve she has to offer, instead of hiding behind her frumpy uniform.
She almost stumbles but manages to right herself.
I ran into her on purpose.
I touched her on purpose.
Every action has a reaction.
As she looks up at me with those mocha-colored eyes, I know right here, and now, even if I tried to convince myself I hate her, I would never be able to achieve it.