Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Wouldn’t you like to be in my tight, pink cunt?” My voice barely made it over the sound of the music.
He dug his short nails into the leather and stilled. I’d gotten to him. He was wound so tight that when he came he let out a deep rumble of a breath. Finally, a sound.
Wet warmth bloomed along my ass. I shuddered, wanting every bit of it, hating that it was wasted in his pants. I rubbed against him until I knew it was over. My pussy didn’t know it quite as much – it was aching for him. Like it always did. But it would remain unsatisfied. Like it always did.
***
“You what?” I had to pull into the closest gas station just to keep from wrecking my car. I’d been driving the hour long trip back to her house for the summer when she’d called.
“I got married!” My mom’s voice chirped through the phone. At least she was awake. And not drunk, though ten in the morning was early, even for her.
“What? You did what?”
“Oh, don’t worry, your trust fund is still safe,” she sniped.
“I wasn’t—that wasn’t—I’m just, I didn’t know you were even seeing anyone.” My mind was spinning so fast I had to rest my forehead against the steering wheel. My mother, Phoebe Lorenz, was a notorious rich bitch with a penchant for alcohol and sleeping around. I was shocked that anyone managed to tie her down. She’d sworn off long-term anything the day she booted my philandering father from our house. “Who is he?”
“Would it be too much to ask for a simple congratulations?” Petulance was my mother’s forte.
“Yes, I mean, um, no. Congratulations. So, who is he?”
“Winston Elliot. A land baron. He does some sort of trustee work at the university, too. We met at the country club a few weeks ago and it’s been heavenly ever since. We went and did it at the courthouse just this morning.” She paused and gave a forced sigh. “Filthy place full of even filthier people.”
“Mom, your snob is showing.” I leaned back and stared at the roof of the car. The gray fabric was faded, peeling in places.
“Oh, calm down. What have they been teaching you at college? Some bleeding heart nonsense?”
“No, just The Communist Manifesto.” Let the pearl-clutching commence.
“I am unamused.”
“I can tell.”
“Well.” Her tone instantly changed back to girlish gossip. I realized I preferred the snob to this new version of her, the one with secret lovers and elopements. “He is taking me to Venice!”
I snorted. “You’ve been to Venice, like, twenty times.”
“Well, not with him, I haven’t. We’ll be gone for a week. It’s all the time he could take away from his business. But then he’s promised me Paris later in the summer.” She giggled. I didn’t know Phoebe Lorenz could giggle until that moment.
“So, when are you leaving?”
“Our private plane takes off in two hours.” She squealed with excitement. I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
When she stopped making the dying pig noise, I continued, “Wait, what? But I’m on my way home.”
“I know. I want to hear all about freshman year and all that. But it will have to wait until we get back. True love conquers all.”
“I won’t even see you?” Phoebe and I weren’t always warm and fuzzy, but it had been months since I’d seen her. My college town was too far away for me to make many trips home during the hectic school year. Driving back to the city now felt like a much-needed homecoming. “So I have to show up to an empty house?”
“Oh, no dear, not empty. Winston’s home is undergoing renovations, so you’ll have a housemate when you get here. Gray, your new stepbrother.”
Chapter Two
Gray Elliot
The Lorenz home was huge, much like my father’s. It was done in a gaudier palette, with more plaster work, and several more pieces of art. It reeked of money. Not an altogether unpleasant smell.
I smiled graciously at my new stepmother and shook my father’s hand. Phoebe Lorenz prattled on about how pleased she was that I was part of her family and for me to make myself at home. She was good looking for her age, medium height, pretty face, and big, fake tits. My father had done well on this fourth marriage.
After an inordinate amount of time spent on pleasantries, she showed me to my upstairs room. Large and with a luxurious en suite with sunken tub and shower. It would do nicely for the summer. I didn’t intend to spend all my time here. I was a graduate assistant with teaching duties here and there during the summer session.
I also had my usual Friday appointment at the Gentleman’s Club that I refused to miss. I worried that my girl – Sasha, she was called – was a student and would be away for the summer. It didn’t matter. I would find her. I smirked at the memory of the previous night and how hard she’d made me come.