Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Fuck me,” he growls. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ tight. You goin’ to cum on me for the first time?”
“I think, oh, god, I think ...”
“Fuck. Yeah.”
He picks up the pace, just a little, and he hits all the right spots. I tip my head back, mouth open in a silent scream, body so tight I don’t know he’s able to thrust in and out of it.
“Fuck,” he barks. “Your pussy is clenchin’ so fuckin’ hard.”
“Boston,” I scream. “Baby, oh fuck.”
Something incredible happens.
It starts as a pressure, a tight pressure in my core, and then suddenly it just releases. A hard, powerful rush of heat that explodes, making my pussy pulse, my body tremble, and my silent screams turn into loud yells of pleasure. I toss my head from side to side, clutch his shoulders, and, for a moment, I completely forget where I am.
I’m caught up in pleasure.
Pure, raw pleasure.
Boston is saying something, his voice low and thick, but I can’t make out the words. He fucks me harder, so hard our skin slaps together and then he’s bellowing his own release, and I feel every pulse inside me as his cock explodes.
It’s fucking heaven.
Every single moment of it is fucking heaven.
I drop my head forward onto his chest, and we both stand there for a few moments, neither one of us letting go.
And I know, in that exact moment, I’ll never forget Boston.
Not for a single second.
And I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
~2~
EARLIER – PENELOPE
“How are you feeling today?” I ask Cassie, Boston’s sister.
She smiles up at me from her spot by the window where she spends most of her time reading. She’s a major book worm, which is awesome because I love books, too. We spend hours talking about them, which is a nice distraction from my chaotic world. Being here with her is without a doubt one of the better jobs I’ve had. I only work four days a week, and another carer works three, but it certainly isn’t a drag.
I thoroughly enjoy it and was super thrilled when Boston took me on.
“Pretty good, I’m finally getting over the flu,” she tells me, putting her book down on her lap, still open.
She refuses to read a Kindle, not that a blame her. I too enjoy the rustic smell of an old book, the way it travels up to your nose every time you turn a page. There is nothing quite like that smell—it’s delicious.
“I feel you,” I tell her, “I’m trying to avoid it but it’s slowly catching up on me.”
She studies me. “My brother isn’t working you too hard, is he?”
I laugh. “No, not at all. I enjoy being here, more so than my other job.”
I wish I could say working for Boston is enough, but unfortunately it isn’t. After a rather ugly divorce, I kept my home, but with that comes a mortgage that isn’t cheap. I’ve taken jobs I really don’t want just to pay it. Looking after Amalie’s ex-boyfriend was one of the less than extraordinary jobs I’ve had, but, if I hadn’t taken it, I would have never met her and created such a great friendship. So really, it isn’t so bad.
My mother tells me often I should just sell my house. What she fails to understand is that house is my everything. I worked hard to save a deposit for it. I worked hard to save every little penny to decorate the inside. Don’t get me wrong, my husband worked, too, but he didn’t put his money into the house. Not the way I did. It’s my pride and joy. It might not be big but it is mine, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep it.
Boston saved my bottom giving me the job when he did, because I was starting to wonder what the hell I was going to do after I quit my job working as Caiden’s carer. I also managed to pick up a job working nights at a local bar two days a week. So, in total, I work six days. It’s not really enough, but it covers everything, just. I’m not cut out to work at a bar, I’ve been told I’m far too nice, but I’ll take what I can get right about now.
“Are you still working at that bar?” Cassie asks, scrunching her nose up.
She looks a lot like Boston only she has lighter hair. She has the same yellow-like eyes, and the same soft skin. I don’t know much about why she lives with him except that their parents wanted to put her in a home and Boston wasn’t having a bar of it. He took her in five years ago and hasn’t looked back since. She’s only twenty-five, so she’s a solid six or seven years younger than him, I’m guessing.