Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Her fingers land on my lips. “If you honestly believe it and we’re done with the heavy stuff for a few minutes, we could always come back to it later and talk it out, or now, if you need to….”
“No, I don’t need to. I believe you.” I know it’s not a real matter of light and dark, heavy or not so heavy, but I feel lighter. I feel weightless saying those words, and I feel the truth of them spreading down into the very essence of me.
“I have the same DNA as you do,” she whispers, shocking me with her ability to read my thoughts. “I mean, not exactly the same. Oh my god. Ugh, not the same at all.” That earns her a smile. She laughs hard, laughs until she snorts out a hiccup at the end. “I mean that in our genes, we both have the makeup of bad men, but so what? I’m sure lots of bad people in the world who have done really bad things have come from good people down the line, and I’m sure good people have come from the bad. Actually, I know that. It has to be true. DNA doesn’t make us who we are. I suppose, technically, it kind of does, but it doesn’t dictate our actions—most of the time. I know there are special cases, but I’m not talking about that. Actually, I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not my father. That’s what I’m saying. I. Am. Not. My. Father. And. Neither. Are. You. You. Are. Not. Your. Father. You. Will. Never. Be. Your. Father.”
Neither. Are. You. You. Are. Not. Your. Father. You. Will. Never. Be. Your. Father.
Those words crack me open like a juicy peach…or, errr, like a walnut? Maybe like an overripe melon? God, I don’t know. They crack me open, and the rest of the overbearing weight goes flowing out those cracks, and I know they are just words, but those words have so much power in them, and I believe them. I believe them because I know myself. I do. I’ve become the exact opposite through sacrifice and hard work, as well as through time, patience, and so much love.
Why couldn’t I see that before? That the pain and worry I kept locked away were the past. That all the shit I kept telling myself was a lie. They were his lies, the lies of a man I know I will never be. I just needed to hear it. I needed to hear it said out loud, and no one had ever said it like that before.
I reach for the prettiest, sexiest, most amazing part of her first. Her brain. Her mind. Since I can’t reach that, obviously, I go for her face. I caress her cheek, and when she leans into my touch, I get bold and guide her to me. I kiss her hard, taking my time and lingering over her mouth. She angles her head, deepening the kiss and letting me know it’s okay to thrust my tongue into her mouth when she does it to me. I stroke hers eagerly, but not too eagerly. There aren’t any tongue and teeth accidents. I bury my fingers in her hair, undoing the tight knot and letting all that ashy gold spill down her shoulders. Her hair is softer than silk, softer than a long-haired cat—okay, fine, I just like petting long-haired cats. Nothing untoward. Regardless, it’s what I think of at the moment, and when I smile into the kiss, she smiles too. Then nips my lip hard. I groan at the sting, but it blossoms into pleasure as she thrusts her tongue into my mouth and strokes mine eagerly.
I press my big body into hers, easing her back. She digs her nails into my scalp and clings to me while her legs part around my hips. She grinds against me shamelessly and immediately, moaning against my lips. I’m still wearing pants, and my god, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything this erotic in my life. Her fingers stroke through my hair as she kisses me desperately, eating my face in the sexiest kind of face-eating ways. Her tongue is perfect. Her lips are perfect. When she arches off the bed and her breasts press against my naked chest, the skin-on-skin contact is more than perfect. It’s sublime.
I might be in danger of passing out again because her nipples are…Hard. And. They. Are. Pressing. Into. My. Chest. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and the hairs on my arms stand on end. I can barely control myself anymore. When I start the slow crawl down from Azalea’s lips, suckling and kissing my way down her chin and neck to her breasts, I see dancing lights in the room. They’re very bright, and they get extra bright when I suckle her nipple into my mouth.