Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
But, saying that, I kind of liked not wearing bras.
Even more, I liked the way that Trick stared at my unbound breasts.
Not that he would do anything about his desires that I could read all over his face.
In the weeks that I’d been home after the incident, he’d done nothing more than kiss me.
First it was on my chin, which happened to be the only spot on my face that hadn’t bruised. Then it’d been a chaste kiss on the lips.
Now it was a small, barely there hug that he could give me without squeezing me too tight.
And honestly, I wanted my Trick back.
I wanted his rough caresses. I wanted his smacks on the ass. I wanted his hands in my hair as he pulled…
“What are you thinking about?” Trick asked, bringing my thoughts once again to the present.
I pulled my shirt up, and then pointed at my vagina, which was bare.
I’d done some pruning of the bush last night—very awkwardly with casts on, might I add—in hopes that he would notice. In hopes that he would do something about my constant aching need.
I knew he’d seen it, yet he didn’t do a damn thing about that ache.
He barely even looked at it.
What had he done? He’d picked up his fuckin’ Xbox controller, then turned on his new Call of Duty game that he’d taken up playing since he’d been in the house with me so much lately.
At first, that stupid game hadn’t bothered me.
Other than the constant ‘you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me’ and ‘that wouldn’t happen in real life’ or the ‘I shot that motherfucker in the head. He should be dead’ comments, generally I just loved having him next to me.
He would play while I would read. He would yell while I would smile.
Honestly, until last night when I’d shuffled into the room naked just to see what he thought of my shave job, I hadn’t hated that game at all.
But now, I hated it. I wanted to burn it. I wanted him to want me.
“I’m thinking about the fact” —I pointed at my crotch— “that I spent thirty minutes shaving this and you didn’t even notice.”
His eyes went hot for a few seconds. “Oh, I noticed.”
I ground my teeth to try to acquire some patience, but today that just wasn’t happening.
“Then why won’t you fucking touch me?” I cried out. “I’m a horny bitch, Trick! You’ve slept beside me every night. Prodded me with that fantastic fucking dick for hours, and you won’t freakin’ touch me! Trick, I freakin’ ache!”
Trick stared at me like I had a few marbles loose.
Then, without a second thought, I reached between my legs, swiped my fingers through my folds, and held the evidence up for him to look at.
“Trick, all you had to do was drop that towel this morning, and I was aching for you,” I grumbled. “I’m horny.”
I went to wipe my fingers off on his t-shirt and yank it down for good measure.
He caught my hand before my fingers could meet the fabric.
With slow, precise movements, he brought my hand up to his lips and sucked each finger into his mouth, slow and succulently.
I felt things inside of me burst into flame.
That small ember that never seemed to go out when I was around him was stoked into a full-blown roaring inferno.
His eyes were hot as he watched me watch him.
And when he finally pulled away, when he’d sucked each one perfectly clean, he pulled away, allowing my hand to drop to the bed.
“You think it’s been easy these last few months?” he rasped. “I’ve been thinking about your hot little pussy for twelve years. Jacking off to just the thought of how sweet it would be. Now I know what I’m missing, and it’s even fucking worse. I know how you clench around me. I know how great you feel. I know how you taste. I know the sounds you make when you come. I know how great it feels to fucking come inside of you. How slick and wet it is when I allow myself a few last pumps with our fluids combined in your tight cunt. I know things, goddammit. And I miss them.”
I swallowed hard. “I won’t break anymore.”
“No,” he agreed. “You won’t. But I’m still terrified that I’ll hurt you. And how do you think that’ll make me feel if I hurt you?”
I ripped my shirt off and spread my legs wide.
“I’m right here, Trick,” I said softly. “And you won’t hurt me anymore. Just don’t punch me in the face, and we’ll be good.”
I tried to lighten the moment with humor, but obviously that was the wrong thing to say.
“I’d never, not ever do that,” he hissed, reaching for his shirt that’d once been on my body and reaching over to tug it back over my head. “If you need me, I’ll be…”