Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I made her a cup of coffee as she gathered her emotions into some kind of order in the kitchen. Our kitchen, since she now lived here with me. Her eyes were on the ceiling as she spoke.
“I still can’t believe this is happening. She could have at least listened to me. Given you a chance.”
“She is only trying to protect you.”
Rosie scoffed at that. “Makes a fucking change.”
Her venom towards her mother was such a sad thing. Through my wife’s therapy business, I’d witnessed so many families torn apart by differences, and so much trauma ensuing as a result. I’d seen mothers struggling with their own past and issues, and how that had impacted their children – generation, after generation, after generation. Beverly didn’t mean harm. She was a woman looking for stability and love, which is what almost everyone seeks from life. Including my own family that I’d ripped apart at the seams.
“You feel really bad for her, don’t you?”
Rosie read me, yet again. She was a very empathic soul.
“I feel very bad for both of you, yes.” I handed her mug to her. “This is my doing.”
She actually rolled her eyes at that. “Maybe you should stop undervaluing yourself for once, don’t you think? You’re the good guy in this, not the bad one.”
No, I didn’t think so, but her words were touching. The love in her eyes made my heart bloom. I was honoured by the strength of her belief. The little flower with the mug in her hand was so simplistically honest in her truth and faith in me.
Now wasn’t the time to speculate on the realities that lay ahead for Rosie’s estrangement from her mother, and the way the whole world would be against us. Rosie had taken enough emotional punishment tonight already. I changed the topic of conversation.
“I’ll clear some space in the wardrobe. We can start unpacking your things.”
She shook her head, blocking my way as I made to pass her.
“Not now. I don’t give a fuck about unpacking my things.”
Her confidence was growing so much. The way she looked at me was a world away from the meek little girl casting her eyes down at the floor outside my door. She ran her dainty fingers down my shirt, and it made my skin tingle, made my cock harden, made my pulse race. Even now, in the face of such conflict, I couldn’t resist her body.
My mouth was on hers as she murmured, and her fingers turned frantic, just as mine did. Our tangle of limbs were accustomed to each other. I tore her top off and over her head, barely breaking the kiss as she unbuttoned my shirt. She pressed herself to me, her thigh between mine, grinding to a rhythm. She knew how to play my body, just as I knew how to play hers.
“Fuck me,” she said. “I don’t want to think about anything else.”
That’s what had got us into this unholy mess in the first place, but I was already tugging her bra down, freeing her sweet little tits. My cock was straining, and my hands were on her tits, playing. It was her who pulled her jeans down along with her panties. I felt how wet she was against my thigh as she kept on moving. “Julian,” she said and her voice was beautiful when she whispered. “If they’re going to talk shit about you, then give them justice.”
She was turning into a kinky little bitch in front of me, one innocent petal at a time, and that was a mountain of fuel to a fire already burning bright.
“You really do want to be a dirty girl, don’t you,” I said.
“I want to be your dirty girl. Show me how dirty you can make me.”
That was like a red rag to a bull. I hitched her up and carried her through to the living room, bashing my knee into her suitcase on the way to the dining table, on such a fucking mission. I slammed her flat, wanting to possess every fucking part of her. My mouth was frantic as I tasted, licked, sucked, trying to take her all in. She held my head to her pussy, already wet enough that my face was slick within seconds. Her taste was my heaven, my filth was my hell, and it was a blend powerful enough to turn me into a rampant demon.
I only let her go for a moment as I scooped up the array of toys still scattered on the chesterfield and dropped them down beside her. My hands were straight to the rope. She responded by offering her wrists to me, clasped together. I bound them like a madman, tugging the rope up over her head and binding her to one of the legs of the dining table, awkward but fucking stunning. Her back was still flat to the wood, arms tense as she pulled against the knot. She was bound tight. Mine to use. Her smile said she wanted it, but the hitch of her breaths said the nerves were still there. I paused to admire the beauty. Poor Rosie must have thought I was having second thoughts.