Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
With that, I stand up so suddenly that I knock over the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Ellen squeaks and quickly throws the dishtowel from the counter onto the table, catching the liquid before it drips onto the floor. As she wipes the hard surface, she looks up at me, concerned.
“Are you okay?” she asks, a small crease of concern appearing on her brow. I swallow and clench my jaw as I watch the enormous swell of her tits move under her shirt while she wipes the table. Fortunately, the sweet girl doesn’t seem to have noticed the hard outline of my cock reaching down the right side of my shorts along my inner thigh.
“Yeah fine,” I say in a terse voice. “I'm going to go shower,” I rasp before turning to leave. Fuck me. Even walking is uncomfortable with my cock so hard, but I force myself not to limp because I don’t want to give away my arousal. Ellen can’t know the state I’m in.
I stalk into to the bathroom and slam the door before yanking on the cold tap. Fuck! My clothes come off in seconds and soon, I’m swearing at myself under jets of ice-cold water. The needles sting my back and shoulders but fuck the pain because I deserve it. Ellen deserves better than this. She deserves better than me.
Trying to get a hold of myself, I lean against the tiles of the shower and take deep breaths. I can’t go on like this. Something needs to change because I can’t live like a caged animal fighting for its life. I force myself to think about my gardens, and the work that awaits me later with a new client. Herbert Mistle is a douche who always tries to nickel and dime my firm, and the thought of that old dirtbag should make my arousal dissipate.
But it’s no use because images of Ellen play over and over in my head. Her huge tits swaying as her nipples poke through her shirt, her big thighs pressing together, her round ass cheeks sticking out of her short shorts, and her pouting lips parting into a sweet “O.” My cock immediately hardens even more, and I groan with lust for my luscious houseguest. Fuck. What do I do now? My life is sheer torture, and there’s a way to settle it all … but it would mean acting on my basest desires.
6
Ellen
I stand stock still, utterly dumbfounded by Ryder’s quick departure. What the heck just happened? My handsome host is usually calm and utterly unflappable. Needless to say, I haven’t been able to break down those walls around him, although I do think I'm making progress. Sometimes he lets down his guard for a few minutes, but as soon as I respond, the barriers come back up.
But still, his behavior just now was completely weird. Was it the juice? Did I actually give him food poisoning? Or maybe he was so grossed out seeing the line on my belly that he left. I know Ryder said he liked it, but sometimes, people are just trying to be kind.
Still, my shoulders slump with defeat. Whatever his reason, it’s clear that I make him jumpy for some reason, despite my best efforts. I try my absolute hardest to make sure I’m not a nuisance by doing the cooking and cleaning. Heck, I’d even help with the gardening if he’d let me, but he says it’s too strenuous for a pregnant woman. Perhaps it’s time to move on. Ryder probably doesn’t have the heart to throw me out, even though he really wants to. I should just leave on my own, and besides, that homeless shelter on the edge of town said I should call back this week to see if any beds have opened. The thought makes me depressed, but obviously, my current living situation isn’t working out.
I sigh as I finish cleaning up the kitchen. Ryder didn’t even eat the breakfast I made him, so I cover it to keep it warm, and then make my way to the garden. I’ll call the shelter from outdoors so that my host doesn’t overhear.
But on my way to the backyard, I pass the bathroom and I can hear the shower going full blast. My handsome host is using enough water to fill a swimming pool, and my heart starts thumping. I move closer, unable to stop myself from envisioning Ryder naked and wet a few feet away. Holy shit. Just on the other side of this door is that masculine form, and then my heart skips a beat when I notice that the door is open. Not just unlocked, nor ajar. It’s open enough so that as I slowly come closer, I can clearly see in without even needing to peek.
I swallow nervously as my heart pounds in my chest. I know I should carry on walking right into the garden. And I should log onto my phone immediately and find a new place to live. Yet I don’t. Instead, my breathing becomes shallow as I lean towards the door and the open space that shouldn’t be there. The rectangle of light beckons invitingly, and I can’t help but look inside.