Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“But you haven’t ruled out the possibility of falling in love with her?” His eyes stay locked on mine as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while waiting for my response.
When did this conversation turn so deep?
“No, I have not,” I reply honestly.
“How do you think that’s going to work when you live with me? Which, by the way, will be very soon.”
“She knows about you. It isn’t like I’m hiding the fact,” I point out, shrugging.
“No one likes to share,” he mumbles. “Though I’m not opposed to watching.” A dirty smirk touches his lips, and I can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes me.
“Is that your kink? Watching?” I ask as I resume putting books away.
“I like to watch.”
“I like to fuck,” I reply, unsure of why I’m engaging in this conversation. “And I’m not picky about the sex of my partner either.” I turn back to look at him. “Are you?”
“Yes, I fuck women, and women only.” Like that wasn’t already clear as day, but I am goading him.
“Maybe you should try a man. Though, from experience, women fuck so much better.” I smirk.
“I fuck better. I’d fuck you better,” he almost mutters.
“If you say so.” I try to hide the smile on my lips, but he catches it, and it makes him angry. He begins unbuttoning his jeans then, in one swift movement, he reaches down and pulls out his cock. At the sight, my amusement morphs to shock.
Shock that he did this?
Shock that I’m not completely disgusted?
I’m not sure.
“I’m ready to fuck, are you?” As he says it his cock gets hard, and my eyes widen. He is indeed ready. And, might I add, he has a decent-size cock. Bigger than any I have had before.
My pussy tingles totally without my permission.
Would it hurt if we fucked?
Turning my back to him, I continue to stack the shelves and state, “I’m busy.”
He chuckles. Then I hear the shuffling of feet and the slam of a door.
When I turn back around, he’s gone.
Becca is… beautiful. There’s no denying that.
And to top it off, her home is gorgeous. It’s a small apartment with only one bedroom, but it’s so full of color and life that you instantly feel welcome when you enter. She rang me this morning and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. And after last night’s—whatever you want to call it with Joey—I gladly agreed.
Becca cooked me dinner, and we ate it on her couch while watching Gilmore Girls. Now she’s lying on my lap while my hand strokes her short hair.
“This situation is going to be messy, isn’t it?” she asks, taking her eyes off the television and glancing back at me.
I want to lie to her, to tell her no it won’t be and that she has nothing to worry about.
But that would be a lie.
Unless I fly to Italy, grab my sister, and take Becca with me, then attempt to work out some way to hide us all, that’s the only way we could possibly not be a part of this upcoming shitshow.
“I hope not,” I reply, but it’s almost a whisper because I don’t believe the words I am saying out loud.
Her eyes search my face, and my heart thumps a bit harder.
“Do you think you’ll sleep with him?”
Being not sure how to answer her, I bite my lip at her blunt question, especially after last night, I’m realizing it might be inevitable.
“I want to tell you no, but Joey is attractive. And soon I’ll be spending every day with the man. So, I’m not really sure.”
She turns away from me and looks back at the television. “We could end it now,” she suggests, her tone soft, her eyes still on the screen. “That’s the right thing to do, before we both get messy.” Becca pulls away and sits up on the couch, reaches for her shirt, and pulls it up and over her head, leaving her in only a bra. Then she stands and drops her skirt to the floor, so she is standing in front of me in only a thin lace G-string.
“I should do it. End this.”
She leans forward and cups my cheek. “You should do it. Please do it,” she almost begs, then climbs onto my lap. Her legs go around me and her lips find mine.
She tastes different than Joey.
Why on earth am I comparing the two?
She is sweeter, whereas he is sweet and sour at the same time.
Her hand slips under my top until she cups my breast, then she lifts my shirt and pulls my tit free, breaking our kiss and moving her mouth to my nipple. I moan at her soft lips and the flick of her tongue before I slide my hand between us and touch her through her panties. She’s wet, so I push the fabric to the side and slip a finger in while my thumb teases her clit.