Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“You’re so tight Ashlynn. Are you a virgin?” he asks as he pushes his fingers deep inside me. I try to answer, but it’s no use. “Even if you’re not a virgin, I guarantee you’ve never been fucked the way I’m going to fuck you.”
Hearing this sends me over the edge; the heat growing in my chest expands like a sun exploding, and I whimper loud and long. Sebastian flips me back over and catches me, cradles in just one arm. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me,” he murmurs, looking down at me. I nod frantically— I want that too. I fight to keep my eyes from squeezing shut as Sebastian moves his fingers to my clit, rubbing lightly, perfectly, urging the orgasm from me slowly.
I’m not scared anymore. I’m…I don’t even know what I am. I don’t even know who I am, right now. The orgasm comes across me slowly, starting at my clit and creeping over my body like an explosive tide. I arch in his arms, but he doesn’t give up, continuing to stoke my clit until I let out a single, long cry; at that point, he moves his fingers down and presses two inside me, stretching at my pussy, sending my body bucking in arms.
I pant, dizzy, confused, exhausted, and turn my head into his shirt fighting for each breath. My orgasm tapers off— a real orgasm, that’s what that was. I thought I’d come before, but those experiences were barely noteworthy now that I’d orgasmed like this. I don’t even know how he did it— how did he know just how to touch me, just how to take me? My heart is pounding, my forehead sweating, knees wobbly and trembling. I hear Sebastian take a satisfied breath, then he sits down on the edge of the wall by the pizza oven, where I’d been when he first came out. He holds me against him as I regain my senses.
“Next time,” he says, reaching up and pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m going to put my tongue in you.”
Oh, god. I want that— I want that so bad. I want him between my legs. I want to feel his mouth on my pussy. I want to feel his cock in me, scary as the prospect is. I can still feel it beneath me, hard and eager, and I can’t help but wonder at how he doesn’t seem bothered to have not gotten off. I’ve never given a blowjob before, but I wonder if I’d be any good at sucking Sebastian’s cock—
What am I doing? My rational brain cuts in for the first time since Sebastian walked out here. Sebastian Slate just sucked on my nipples, just made me so wet that I worry it might show through my shorts, just made me come with just his fingers. What the hell is going on here?
“I…I need to go,” I say, barely finding my voice.
Sebastian shrugs, not nearly as offended as I expected him to be. “I thought you might say that.”
“Yeah, sorry, I just…” I stammer, twisting myself around. Sebastian lets me down without a fight, though he has to reach forward and steady me when I nearly collapse again— my knees are still wobbly. I lock them and force myself to take a few steps toward the patio door. “I have tables,” I say lamely.
“Next time, you’ll need to explain why you work so hard to pretend like you don’t want me, Ashlynn.”
“There can’t be a next time,” I say, shaking my head dizzily, still making my drunken way toward the patio door.
“Next time, I’m going to fuck you, Ashlynn,” he calls after me.
And the thing is, I want him to. Because even as insane as this is, as much as I know there shouldn’t be a next time…I know there will be. And I like that.
7
Wait, no, no, there can’t be a next time.
For starters, I am not attracted to football players. Never have been. I dated people in the photography club and music department when I was in high school. I lost my virginity in the black box theater, for god’s sake.
And secondly, he’s a Slate. He’s Dennis Slate’s son. Letting him touch me— hell, letting him speak to me betrays my entire family, especially my aunt. When I haven’t been able to shake the thrumming happiness of my experience with Sebastian from my memory the following morning, I decide to Google Sebastian’s name, to see just how he feels about his father’s role in my aunt’s death.
I’m fairly certain that all of Dennis’s sons have sided with him in no uncertain terms. But I still have some small hope that maybe Sebastian is different…
But no.
Sebastian— and his brothers— have all publicly declared their father to be totally, one hundred percent innocent. They don’t even use my aunt’s name in the various interviews or statements they’ve given; they’re focused on their dad, like he’s the victim here. Even if they think their father is innocent, couldn’t they at least care about the fact that a woman died? That someone murdered her? How can they not even question their father’s flimsy alibi (that he was out driving alone, collecting his thoughts)?