Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Now?
I want this. I want that. I want everything.
"I'll go slow," Patrick promises. Then his hands are on his zipper. The foil packet. The condom.
He brings one hand to my hips and he holds me in place as he enters me.
He stretches me slowly. Then he pulls back and drives into me again.
He stays slow, at first.
Then he moves a little faster. A little harder.
I press my palms into the mattress for stability.
He keeps his hands on my hips, holding me in place as he drives into me again.
He feels good inside me. And I love the way he's handling me, guiding me, responding to my groans.
I lower myself onto the bed.
He rolls my dress a little higher and shifts onto the mattress. "Spread your legs."
I do.
He positions his body behind mine, lifts my hips, drives into me. In one swift motion, he lowers the two of us, so I'm pressed into the bed, the weight of his body sinking into mine.
Again, he starts slow. The mattress barely shakes. But as he moves faster and harder, I have to hold on to the sheets to stay in place. To contain the need racing through my body.
He drives into me again and again, pushing me closer, winding me tighter.
He feels so good inside me. Warm and hard and mine.
I've never felt that before, that overwhelming physical, visceral need to take his body into mine.
But right now—
This really is bliss.
I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation of him driving into me.
The tension in my sex winds tighter and tighter.
His breaths run together.
His fingers dig into my thighs.
Then he's there, rocking into me as he comes, groaning my name into the air, digging his nails into my thighs.
It hurts in the best possible way, like he's claiming my body as his too.
Here. Only here.
But here is really fucking good.
He works through his orgasm then he pulls back, takes care of the condom, rights his jeans.
I push myself up and reach for my panties, but Patrick stops me.
"No way, baby." He takes my hand, so my panties fall to my ankles. "You need to come again first."
Chapter Ten
IMOGEN
For a few hours, the night is easy. I read on the couch. He draws in his sketchbook. We enjoy the silence together. I feel comfortable in his space.
With my head in his lap, and his hands in my hair, I'm not anywhere else. I'm in this perfect moment, soaking in the feeling of his fingertips. This other side of physical touch. Intimate in another way.
We have sex in his bed. It's soft and slow and alarmingly tender. After, we take turns in the shower, and I change into a spare t-shirt and boxers.
He falls asleep in his clean white sheets.
For a few minutes, I settle into the foam mattress. I let the feeling of his space overwhelm me. The soft breeze, the faint smell of salt, the hum of the city streets.
With every passing car, I drift away from sexual bliss. To a place where I worry about Julie's boyfriend (even if she didn't say she has a boyfriend) and Mom ignoring her issues the way she ignored mine. Or maybe Julie is more like me than I can admit. Maybe she's just as good at hiding things.
I climb out of bed, slip downstairs, check my cell. Thankfully, I don't have to invent a reason to check on my sister.
She's already checking on me.
Julie: How was it ;p
Imogen: It's late. Go to bed.
Julie: You're up! Did you just finish another tryst?
Imogen: Why are you up?
Julie: You woke me.
Imogen: Sorry. Don't keep your phone near your bed. Or at least turn it on Do Not Disturb.
Julie: Thanks, Mom, great apology.
Imogen: Sleep hygiene is important.
Julie: I couldn't sleep anyway.
Imogen: Is everything okay?
Julie: No! My sister won't tell me what's going on. Worse, she's pretending like nothing is going on.
Guilty as charged.
Imogen: It's a thing with me and Mom. Not your issue.
Julie: I live with her.
Imogen: Let's talk about it later.
Julie: Please, Immy, I know that means "let's talk about it never," but, sure. If you tell me all about your new boy-toy.
I give her a PG-13 version of events. When she presses, I include a few details. Nothing too explicit. Only the sheer pleasure of being in my body, the way I am when I swim.
Julie: Like a great play. When I dive without thinking. Totally. That's hot.
Imogen: You swear you aren't having sex?
Julie: OMG. Don't even. Hypocrite.
Imogen: I just want you to be safe.
Julie: No. You want me to be an innocent flower, same as Mom and Dad, but I'll allow it this time.
Imogen: Next time?
Julie: No dice.
Imogen: You are seeing someone?
Julie: We're only making out. Don't worry.
Imogen: When you say making out…
Julie: None of your business.
Imogen: What about my details?
Julie: I don't act like you're supposed to wait for marriage.