Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Anthony!” She dragged the word out throatily as she writhed and twisted as much as she could beneath me, as if her very life depended on the tip of that finger.
I had been right that time when I had wondered about it. She did light up from within, even before the culmination. Her mewls and cries made me crazy. I was delighted to see how responsive she was. She seemed to be as uncontrollably passionate with me as I was with her.
I left her a few strokes from the top, knowing her need met mine as I positioned myself just slightly inside her, then caught her eye and began to press my hard cock deep within.
“This is going to hurt,” I warned, not making light of the fact that I was about to fuck a virgin pussy.
“Then hurt me,” she whispered. “I want you to hurt me.”
Fuck me, she was unbelievably tight, her hot pussy grabbing on to my dick and fitting me like a second skin. I could barely stand the slow pace I set for us, but I didn’t want to hurt her, and judging by just how tight she was, I was glad I hadn’t just decided to take her with one hard thrust.
Instead, I drove the both of us crazy, settling my cock into her spreading pussy by centimeters, letting my own weight set the pace as my spiked flesh seared its way deeply inside her. Her sharp cry and tense body soon morphed to a soft moan and sensual movements.
By the time she was fully impaled, Raychel had already begun to shift restlessly beneath me, trying to encourage me to begin the rhythm that would carry us both to ecstasy. Virgin or not, this was a woman who knew what she wanted.
She wanted me.
That simple knowledge nearly made me come inside of her right then and there.
I could hold back no longer.
I had to fuck her hard.
Raychel clutched at my back, arching herself to meet my every move, moaning as I scraped the delicate tissues within her with each snap of my hips, building her pleasure to the point where she might pass out beneath me before hurling her off the mountaintop into the abyss of the purest paradise. I fucked her at an aggressive and rapid pace until I heard a scream escape those luscious lips of hers.
I followed a stroke or two later, groaning out her barely discernable name in a voice I didn’t recognize, it was so gravelly and animalistic. I flexed my ass several times afterwards, driving into her as much as I could, eking out every iota of pleasure before collapsing on top of her, burying my face into her hair where it lay on the pillow next to her, panting strands into my mouth but not caring in the least as I tried to come to grips with what had happened.
Chapter Thirteen
Raychel
Lying beneath him, I still clutched at his shoulders although my quakes had been reduced to small, trembly tremors. My eyes were wide open, as if I had just seen a ghost, and I had.
My father.
I felt my father’s presence there—in that room, despite how wrong and twisted it was to be thinking of Daddy at a time like this—as surely as I had ever felt anything else, and the starkness of what I’d done made tears seep into my eyes. When I finally had to close them, the wayward tears dribbled down the sides of my face and into my hair.
What had I done? Was I crazy? How could I have been so adamant about not wanting to get involved with Anthony, and then end up doing exactly that? Where was my brain? I was lying in my father’s best friend’s bedroom, with Anthony lying on top of me. It didn’t matter that my father was gone and would not see this relationship. It didn’t matter that I was a grown adult. It didn’t matter that we could sit here and try to justify it all we wanted. It didn’t matter one bit!
I knew I was overreacting by actually crying, but I couldn’t help it. I felt dirty. I felt like a whore. I felt as if I had crossed the point of no return. I didn’t recognize my own behavior. Obviously, I had begun thinking with my overactive sexual need rather than my brain. I never meant to dishonor my father’s memory in such a way. That was the last thing I had ever wanted to do, and yet it was exactly what I had ended up doing. I felt sick, as if my stomach wanted to rebel against my behavior as well as my mind.
I wanted to melt into the bed beneath me, to disappear, to be forgotten and forgiven. But that wasn’t likely to happen here, lying under a man I’d tried but failed to resist. The only thing I could think of right now was being alone, and doing some sort of penance. I didn’t know what, but it wasn’t going to be pretty. I knew that.