Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
His eyes opened, then his head tipped down, pinning me with the intensity in his gaze. And I was momentarily transfixed by the ticking a muscle was doing in his cheek before he was slamming a hand into the wall behind me, then fucking me.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
Each thrust took every inch of me, then damn near left me entirely, before surging in once again.
His free hand moved between my thighs, engaging my clit, and his lips took mine once again, muffling the sounds of my whimpers that quickly became moans as he drove me up mercilessly.
“There it is,” he murmured as my walls tightened around him. His lips pulled from mine, as his gaze held me captive. “Come for me,” he demanded, voice low, gravelly, as he continued to fuck me.
Right up and through the orgasm that slammed through my system, stealing my breath, wiping my mind blank. I folded forward to cling to him, some silly, irrational part of me feeling like I might fall apart if I didn’t.
“Fuck, mama,” A growled as my pussy clenched his cock over and over, as he kept slamming through it, then settling deep as he hissed out his own release.
I let myself cling to him afterward.
Just for a minute.
And I didn’t even let myself analyze why I did it, when I’d never been a clingy woman before. If anything, I was usually who rolled off the bed first, yanking my panties and pants back up, and rushing out.
I wasn’t going to let myself get in my head about it.
I was just going to enjoy it.
Because that was what it felt like right then.
Joy.
Comfort.
Peace.
Christ, I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt all three of those things simultaneously in my entire life.
I was going to let myself bask in it for as long as I could.
Andres stayed there as well, one arm draped around my lower back.
But it was A who pulled away first, turning away from me to toss the condom in the trash, then zipping up his pants.
I felt it.
The way something shifted in the air.
It wasn’t even subtle.
I’d been trusting vibes for a long time to keep myself sharp, to keep me safe.
Everything about the way my skin prickled and my stomach twisted told me that something had just gone horribly wrong.
Almost at the same moment, A was making his way to the doorway of the laundry room.
He paused there, turning his head enough that I could see his profile, but not enough to make eye contact.
“You need to go,” he said, making the blood cease flowing through my veins. “Tonight or tomorrow, you need to be gone.”
With that, he walked off.
And I only just barely managed to keep myself from reaching for one of the guns beside me, and putting a few holes in his body.
Panic, unfamiliar and overpowering, coursed through me, replacing all those after-sex warm and cozy feelings.
A hand was closing around my throat as some unfathomable, invisible weight pressed down on my chest, making it feel impossible to breathe as I stood there, stark naked, too shocked even to reach for my shirt, to slip it back on.
It wasn’t until I heard his slow, purposeful footsteps going up the stairs, walking across the main floor, then taking up the steps to the second floor that I seemed to snap out of it.
What the fuck?
I mean What the actual fuck?
On that thought, I was scooping my clothes off the floor, struggling into them with shaky hands.
Not from sadness or shock then, though.
Oh, no.
It was blind fucking hatred that was making me feel like my body couldn’t contain the feelings surging through me.
“That mother fucker,” I growled to myself as I looked at the washer and dryer.
Jaw so tight my teeth were at risk of fracturing all at once, I charged toward the washer, cutting it off, then reaching inside to squeeze out my clothes. They were still sopping wet when I tossed the couple pairs of panties, bras, tees, and sleep shorts into the laundry basket I’d brought down.
“That goddamn mother fucker,” I growled to myself again as I charged up the stairs.
I looked all around for my buddy, the sweet little face that might have made this moment of fury and humiliation more tolerable.
But he wasn’t on the main floor.
He wasn’t upstairs either.
It wasn’t until I heard his little whimper that I knew where he was.
Locked in Andres’s room with him.
My lower lip quivered at that as I turned toward my room, ripping my clothes off of hangers and out of drawers, tossing some in my bag, others right on top of my soaking wet clothes from the washer.
I had the foresight to call for a ride before finishing, then shoving my feet into shoes, and charging back downstairs, through the house, out the front door, and down the path.
“Where you going?” Luis called.