Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
"You're lying," I say. Turning to the side, I slide out of her and immeditatly reach pulling her beside me.
"How big is your tub?" she asks me as she cuddles into my chest, and I look down at her. She rolls away from me, standing up and looking around the room. "Can I go?" She points at the bathroom.
"Baby," I say, getting up with her. "You can go wherever you want in this whole house." I walk to her, bending to kiss her lips. She turns, and I smack her ass as she takes off the shoes finally and walks with me to the bathroom. She passes the his-and-hers closet, her eyes looking around.
When we walk into the bathroom, she whistles. "Very nice." She smirks as she walks past the double vanity set to start the bath. "Do you have bubble bath?"
I just look at her as I take off the condom. "No."
"What?" she asks, surprised. "How do you not have bubble bath?"
"I’ve never even used that tub," I answer her honestly, and she gasps.
"Didn’t your girls like baths?” She laughs, not even caring that I’ve had other women. Usually, it’s something you always tiptoe around. I look down. “Wilson.” She calls my name. “We obviously had other partners.” I don’t look up at her because the thought of her with someone else eats away at my stomach. She puts her hands on my hips. "I’m assuming you weren’t a virgin the first time." She wraps her arms around my neck. "I’m okay with you having a past." She gets on her tippy-toes. "Now, do you have body wash?"
"Yeah," I say, pointing at the shower.
"Good, I’ll try to make a bubble bath and you go get a condom." She pushes me out of the bathroom, and when I walk back in with two condoms in my hand, she is leaning over the edge with her hand in the water, but all I can see is her pussy. I walk up to her and rub her ass with one hand before I drop to my knee as I lick her. She hisses out my name, "Wilson." Then she lifts one of her legs and places it on the edge of the tub. I stand as she gets in the tub, and I follow her. She puts her head back on the edge of the tub as I sit in front of her. Her knees bend as I move between her legs, and she lifts her hips out of the water. My finger rubs over her pussy, and it’s the most intimate moment with her. Neither of us says anything as she turns around, and I roll on the condom. She holds my cock up as she sinks down on it with her back to me. "I’m so full," she says, my hands going to her tits as she fucks me. Her head turns to the side, and my mouth covers hers as I let her take over.
For over twenty-four hours, we have had sex in every single part of my house. From the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen. Even the guest room when I gave her a tour. I just couldn’t keep my hands off her. Even during the middle of the night, I had to touch her. I keep her with me until Sunday morning, dropping her off while she wears my shorts and a T-shirt. "I’ll call you later,” I tell her, and she grabs the handle of the car, avoiding looking at me.
"Okay.” She gets out of the car, holding her dress in a ball with her shoes. “I had fun.”
I laugh out at her. “Yeah, it was fun.” She closes the door as I watch her walk into the house. I want to get back out of the car and take one more kiss, but I don’t. Something is going on, and I can’t explain it. I don’t even understand it. I get to the rink and send her a text.
Me: Want to get dinner tonight?
I put my gear on and get on the ice, the lack of sleep definitely showing, and when I skate off the ice, I’m about to pass out. I grab my phone, seeing that she didn’t answer me, and I’m wondering if she’s sleeping. I shower and make my way home, not hearing from her the whole night. I spend the entire night with the phone in my hand, wondering if I should text her again. I sleep less than I did the night before, only because every time I turn and reach out for her, she isn’t there.
I’m pissed when I walk into the rink on Monday morning, and everyone knows it. I’m pissed that I let myself feel something for once, and all it’s come up with is nothing. Practice is a waste of time, and when I get out of the rink, I send her another text.