Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“Mine. Mine. Mine.”
“Yes,” I breathe, holding on tight to his shoulders, trying to keep my thighs perched on his bucking hips, whimpering, whining, absorbing the blows, while straining to get just the right friction for my clit. I’m so sensitized from last night that in a matter of seconds, I’m already feeling that distinctive tingle of oncoming release. “Yes, Daddy,” I half-scream through my teeth. “Make me come.”
We’re filthy. It’s like we’ve accepted it, embraced it, and now we’re owning it.
Jack grips my knees and slaps them wide against the limo, his teeth biting down on my bottom lip and pulling, letting go, hips powering up and forward, his eyes traveling down to breasts that are now exposed, bouncing up and down in the open V of my robe. I imagine the picture we must make, Jack with his pants around his ankles, his taut buttocks flexing in the sunlight, my thighs open and eager to receive his savage drives.
“God, Maisy, I love you so much, I can barely fucking breathe,” he grinds out against my mouth, eyes flashing possessively, hands tightening on my knees. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’re mine forever.”
“I’m yours. Forever,” I hiccup, relief approaching quickly. So quickly that I have to grind down, shifting my hips with sharp movements, head falling back, eyes already blind in anticipation of the meteoric rise and steep drop.
“And I’m yours,” he says thickly in my ear. “So fucking yours.”
My heart flies and I follow, moaning wildly while those final thrusts drive me higher, up, up, up against the side of the limo. Until Jack curses, jaw slackening, impaling me to the hard surface with one final rough pump, roaring into the air above my head, release turning him to a rigid, shaking wall of muscle. Warmth bathes me on the inside and I beg for it greedily, wiggling my hips and whimpering in gibberish. We look each other in the eye at the most jagged peak of our mutual climax and forever is no longer just a word. It’s an inevitability.
“Maisy. My Maisy,” Jack whispers, letting me slide down the car and wrapping me tightly in the robe, embracing me tightly. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Jack,” I kiss his chin, his hard lips. “Always. I knew you would do the right thing. I knew.”
There’s a trace of vulnerability when he looks down at me again. “You’re going to be here when I get home, right?”
“Of course I am.”
When I say I’m going to be there, I truly mean it.
But circumstances have a funny way of changing in the blink of an eye.
13
Maisy
I sit on the bed in one of my new dresses, staring at the envelope of money and plane tickets to Belize. Jack told me I could return them to my mother, but I haven’t yet and there’s no more putting it off. If I didn’t feel so betrayed and hurt, I would have already called her or dropped the money by, but I’m dreading the moment I have to look in her eyes, knowing full well she meant to take off and leave me in the lurch. It’s going to make it all so real.
Flopping backwards on the bed, I pick up my phone, rubbing a thumb on the screen.
It’s kind of odd that she hasn’t called me, isn’t it?
She’s not even interested in pleading her case?
Maybe she’s too ashamed after being caught.
You’ll never know unless you talk to her.
Before I can dial, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. Thinking it’s Jack, my nipples harden and lust coils tightly beneath my belly button. But why would he knock on his own bedroom door? Come to think of it, Jack probably never knocks on any door. Just walks right through. Heart squeezing, I sit up. “Come in.”
Bonnie pokes her head in hesitantly. She stood at the door while Jack and I made love in the driveway, and my face colors in response to seeing her again, but nothing in her expression betrays any censure. So I relax.
“Miss Whitaker,” she says, setting down a brown paper bag just inside the door. “Mr. Lincoln asked me to pick this up for you at the drugstore.”
“Oh.” Already sensing what it might be, my cheeks flame again. “Thank you.”
She smiles warmly. “Of course.”
The door is closed with a quiet click.
Rolling off the bed, I stare at the bag for a moment before approaching. When I finally open it up, I find exactly what I was expecting. A pregnancy test. Nonetheless, my heart flutters up into my throat. I take a moment to examine my feelings. Am I hopeful that I’m carrying Jack’s baby? Or hopeful that I’m not?
I close my eyes and imagine Jack holding a newborn, swimming with a little boy or girl in the pool, how much the unconditional love of a child would transform him and…I can’t help it. I find myself hoping the test is positive. I want to share this life with him. Share a family.