Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Her cheeks are flushed red and her eyes are liquid desire. “Don’t stop,” she commands.
And I don’t.
I keep going, matching her rhythm. “You’re learning something about yourself tonight, filthy girl. You’re learning about all the dirty needs you have boiling along below your skin. You’re learning how fucking good it feels to be wrong.”
“Carmine,” she gasps, and I pull her hair as my lips suck at her neck. I sink my teeth into her collarbone gently, tempted to bite down hard enough to leave my mark, but I know she’ll only whine about it later. She’s not ready to be bruised and battered by me, not yet. But she will be.
“Your whole life has been so sheltered and safe and clean, and now I’m here to drag you deep into the filth. I need you with me, dirty girl, you dirty fucking girl. I need your moans and your taste. I need you to be my fucking wife.”
She leans her forehead against mine, moving her hips faster and faster, her pussy dripping down along her inner thighs, and finally I feel her clench, I feel the tension peak and begin to rip into her as she comes. I kiss her, keeping her moans low, gagging her with my tongue as I keep going and going until she goes limp against me, breathing deep.
When she’s finished, I slide my fingers back out. I pull her head back gently, and I make her watch me lick my ring finger clean. Her eyes widen in surprise, and I can’t tell if she’s aroused or disgusted, but she’s probably both, and I place the tip of my middle finger on her lower lip.
“Your turn,” I say. “Suck it clean.”
She whimpers quietly, shivering, and I tighten my grip in her hair.
“Clean your pussy from my finger, filthy girl,” I whisper, staring into her eyes.
And slowly, she does it.
I think my heart might go out. It’s racing so fast I’m dizzy. Her tongue is heaven as she laps my finger, sucking like it’s my cock. When she’s done, she pulls back, breathing hard.
I lean forward and kiss her gently. “That’s a good girl,” I whisper and let her go.
She adjusts her panties and pulls her dress back down. I stare at her kiss-bitten lips, swollen pink and lovely, at her flushed pale skin, at the hairs finally straying from her perfect bun. She’s imperfect and that only makes her so much more beautiful. Perfect is sterile, it’s clean, it’s boring, but this?
This post-orgasm girl? Sitting in a bathroom with a man she barely knows? A man she fucking loathes? Probably wondering to herself why the hell she let me do that and, even worse, why the hell it felt so damn good.
And why she wants it again.
But instead, she turns her back to me. I’m tempted to rip that dress up and fuck her raw here and now. The animal part of me wants it badly, wants to feel her tight virgin pussy quivering and pulsing around my raw and brutal cock.
I keep my hands to myself like a perfect gentleman.
“When I leave this bathroom, I’m going home.” She doesn’t look at me as she says it. Slowly, she turns on the water, puts soap in her hands, and begins to clean them.
I scowl, not happy about that.
“My driver will take you.”
“No,” she says, cleaning each finger. When she’s done with her hands, she dries them. “I’ll get my own car.”
“I’m not finished with you yet. We still have some cake to finish. Remember how wet it was on the inside? It practically melted on my tongue.” I smile at her pleasantly.
She stares at me, a hint of anger in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have followed me in here.”
“And you shouldn’t have ridden my hand and licked my finger clean, but here we are.”
“Right, okay, that happened.” She takes a breath and closes her eyes, composing herself. “But it doesn’t mean anything, okay?”
“I’m hurt. You’re really going to use me like that?” I try not to laugh as she glares at me.
“Look, this was a dumb mistake, okay? You came in here and started talking and touched me and I just—” She stops herself, grinding her jaw, and starts to fix her bun, gathering all the strays, flattening it out, getting frustrated when it won’t look the way she wants it. “This just didn’t mean anything, okay? When I leave the bathroom, please don’t follow me. Count to twenty. I’ll be gone when you get back to the table.”
She nods to herself like she looks good enough and I lean against the wall, watching her, wishing she would’ve left herself a mess. But she looks more respectable now, less like she let a man finger-fuck her in the bathroom. When she faces me, it’s almost like this really didn’t happen.