Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
He reached for the little basket the bathroom attendant had left behind and rummaged through it one-handed for a condom. The whole thing spilled onto the floor with a clatter, mouthwash and cologne rolling over the black tiles.
“Get your legs open,” he growled, forcing my knees wide apart. I heard his zipper, felt him fumbling with the condom between us, then he pushed aside my panties, slicked the tip of his cock over my slit, and plunged deep.
“Oh!” I had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling back on the sink. I wrapped one leg around his waist, the other he caught beneath the knee and lifted to perch my heel on the counter. It contorted my body, exposed me, made me utterly vulnerable to him. My cunt gripped him, waves of muscle contractions rolling up and down his length as my body tried to decide whether I should lock him in or push him out. His hand cupped the back of my skull, fingers threading through my hair, and he tugged my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“The party is wonderful, but there is really no place on Earth that I would rather be than right—” he slid his hand between us, his middle and ring fingers bracketing his cock, digging in to my labia stretched around him. His knuckles brushed over my clit. I gasped, and he swallowed it up with a kiss, whispering, “—here,” against my mouth.
He moved his hand to rub my clit with the tips of his fingers, and I came hard, lifting my hips with what little, constrained motion I could manage.
He clamped his free hand over my mouth to cover my wail of relief. I don’t suppose it could have been heard over the music outside, but better safe than sorry. He grinned down at me, grinding deeper, and when the last blissful tremor had passed, he gently withdrew.
“Aren’t… you?” I panted, dropping my leg and balancing myself with my hands on the counter.
He rolled the condom off and wadded it up in some paper towel before he dropped it into the trash hole in the counter. “I fear I am far too drunk for that. It’s a miracle I got hard.”
“Well, I certainly had a religious experience.” I hopped down and turned to check my makeup. My lipstick was smudged, and I corrected the situation by wiping it off entirely. I wasn’t going to fool anybody; I looked thoroughly fucked.
Neil stepped up behind me, kneading my breast through my dress as he met my gaze in the mirror. “Thank you, darling. This really is a fantastic birthday.”
I went out ahead of Neil—he wanted to stay behind to pick up the toiletries he’d spilled—trying to keep the I-just-had-sex swagger out of my walk. I’d just stepped into the hall when a very confused-looking man stopped in his tracks and looked from the men’s’ room to the ladies’ as though he were trying to solve a differential equation in his head.
“Excuse me.” I dipped my head as I passed him and tucked some hair behind my ear.
When he went inside, he’d get it.
* * * *
The automatic blinds on the windows were set on a timer, to roll gently up every weekday morning at eight o’clock.
Fuck those stupid blinds.
I rolled out of bed, still in my silver sequined dress. There was something sticky in my hair. It was probably puke. It might not have been my own.
Crawling on my hands and knees like a vampire trying to avoid the rays of sunlight, I scrambled for the universal remote on the couch in front of the fireplace. I clicked the button for the shades and groaned in relief as the room was plunged into black-out darkness once more.
I sat up, my mouth feeling like someone had shoved a wad of cotton into it—probably because they’d mistaken me for a corpse and had started embalming me—and staggered toward the bathroom. I turned on the light, then slapped the switch immediately off again. In the dark, I leaned over the sink, turned the tap on—I never realized how loud running water was before—and filled my mouth. Swallowing seemed dicey, but I powered through it.
It was only when I got back to the bed that I noticed Neil wasn’t in it. I grabbed my sunglasses from my purse and slid them on before I ventured into the rest of the house. Halfway through the dining room, I heard Neil singing.
Singing?
He was a quarter century older than I was. He should have at least been mildly dead after last night.
I pushed open the door, and there he was, standing over the stove, cooking breakfast and whistling. He was even dressed, in jeans and a hunter green sweater that brought out the gorgeous color of his eyes. If I hadn’t had one foot in a vodka-soaked grave, I would have appreciated it more.