Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I stand, moving away from her to give her some space because I can only imagine the horrible, awful, perverted things she’s thinking about me right now. “I’m so sorry, Riley.”
She rises to her feet, her cheeks so flushed they very nearly match her hair. And her eyes… they’re wide and wild, filled with confusion and guilt. “I’m sorry. I should—” She looks behind her, toward the door… the very open door where Grace could’ve walked in and seen us.
That would’ve been catastrophic.
I don’t introduce Grace to women I see, and I don’t see women Grace knows. Hell, it’s been years since I’ve seen anyone at all. But nearly fucking the nanny… no, not ‘the nanny’ like she’s some interchangeable cog in a factory… nearly fucking Riley would likely send Grace into a tailspin.
It’s definitely sent me into one.
“I should go,” she stammers. Her eyes swing back to mine for one split second and then she virtually runs out, her feet quiet on the rug, and then she must tiptoe the rest of the way because I don’t hear her footsteps. A tiny glimmer of appreciation that Grace won’t hear her going upstairs at this early hour shoots through me too, which makes me feel like a complete asshole because her boots are still sitting by the couch where she took them off last night.
I inhale deeply and then exhale slowly, trying to calm the panic building in my mind before it spirals. But it’s too late.
What the actual fuck, Harrington?
You really know how to screw things up, don’t you?
What the hell are you going to do now?
That stops me short. It’s Sunday, and the three of us are going to be home all day. There’s no avoiding Riley unless she chooses to stay in her room. But she won’t. I already know that. She’ll want to be involved in the conversation with Grace about what happened at the sleepover last night, and honestly, I want her there too. Her insight is valuable to me, especially given it sounds like she was right about Hannah being a mean girl. I’m in over my head there.
And with Riley, obviously.
Whatever tenuous hold I had on my restraint is obviously nothing but a façade because at the first opportunity, my body did exactly what it’s been fantasizing about, leaving my mind completely out of that decision-making process.
“Goddammit,” I groan, falling back to the couch. I stare at the ceiling, scrubbing my hands over my face, only to be caught by an intoxicating scent. I hold my hand out, looking at it and realizing that it’s her. Riley’s juices, dried on my fingers from when I was rubbing her off. Riley’s scent, marking me in some base way that makes me feel worthy of her desire, even though I’m decidedly not.
I grit my teeth. “No,” I tell myself, needing the admonishment to be aloud so I hear it, not only think it.
It doesn’t matter. A second later, I’m yanking my shirt up and shoving my pajama pants down, taking my rock-hard cock into my hand and jerking myself. I’m not gentle about it, wanting and needing to punish myself for what I’m doing.
I could pretend that it’s to take the edge off so that I can be around Riley today without making a fool of myself, but the truth is, I just want to go back to that fantasy… of her hungrily swallowing me down her throat… of taking her from behind, one hand on her throat and the other at her clit as I slip my cock into her welcoming pussy.
Except that almost wasn’t a fantasy. It was very nearly real.
I smell my fingers, letting the scent take me back, and then slip them into my mouth, sucking her taste from them. Between the image my mind creates, the feel of her body against mine still so recent, and the sweet, musky taste of her pussy, it only takes a minute before my balls pull up tight and that tell-tale tingling starts in my spine. I groan at the overwhelming pleasure but lock my lips around my fingers and close my eyes, focusing on Riley’s taste as the orgasm hits and the reality of the depraved thing I’m doing drifts away. My cock explodes, cum splattering up onto my abs with every intense pulse, and I milk it as long as I can, needing to drain every last drop so I have any chance of being normal around Riley today and not acting like a lecherous old man who’ll take advantage at the first opportunity.
Panting, I look down at myself and see that I am a complete mess. Not only physically, but mentally. Hell, probably even more of a mess mentally.
I reach behind my head, pulling my T-shirt off in one smooth motion, and use it to wipe off my stomach and hand. There’s no way I’m putting this shirt in the laundry for Riley to wash. I’ll have to trash it. Apparently, I still have some shame, and that’s over the line.