Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I shifted uncomfortably. Without anything to look at, being out in the backyard left me alone with my thoughts. I returned to the cabin and found Aly’s television. I turned the volume way down and browsed her Netflix selection. Settling on a movie that had no romantic elements, I slid down into the couch. Surprisingly, I found myself drifting, and a moment later, it was morning.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Aly teased, grabbing hold of my boot and shaking it.
I jolted into awareness, taking a moment to survey my surroundings before remembering what had happened the night before. She was standing over me, dressed in her work clothes. The screen had gone dark from hours of disuse, and I felt a crick in my neck.
“I put you to sleep,” she said wisely.
I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of that achievement, but I couldn’t argue. It did seem like I was able to sleep on the nights we had sex. She presented a perfect vision of femininity, so shapely and available. I went to war with myself the moment I saw her. In one corner was the animal who wanted to rip her clothes off, and in the other was the coward who wanted to run away. Luckily, I was able to pull myself together to meet somewhere on middle ground.
“Do you want some cereal?” she asked, as if sensing part of my conflict.
“Sure,” I agreed.
She pulled a box of chocolate puffs from the cabinet and placed it on the counter. Then she grabbed two bowls and the milk. She made herself breakfast and left the rest for me. I filled my bowl, grabbing a spoon and following her to the table. Her skirt covered her ass, obscuring what I knew was a heavenly, rounded peach. I wondered if she would let me fuck her against the kitchen island, just push the fabric up and have my way with her.
If anything, my aversion to having a baby was only fueling my lust for her. It was twisted, backward, and not fair to Aly. I forced myself to sit down, concealing my growing erection. We ate in silence.
She finished her bowl and went to clean it out. “I’ll give you a ride to work.”
I lost the struggle with my better nature and stood up to follow her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pressed her up against the kitchen sink. She gasped, caught off guard by my urgent advance. We had ten minutes, if that.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered, needing her to be the one to put on the brakes.
She didn’t, twisting within my embrace to kiss me and stroke my jaw. I pulled the skirt up just as I had envisioned and slid my hand across her bottom. Pulling her panties down, I undid my fly and dropped my pants. I grabbed one of her breasts over the shirt, giving a useless nod to foreplay before submerging myself to the hilt.
She moaned, dropping her hand from my face and gripping the side of the sink. I plunged in and out, nailing her to the counter, working my way toward freedom. Halfway to victory with my dick inside her, I realized what I was doing. I was treating Aly like a toy, like a plaything to be used without regard for her feelings.
I was going to have to be more patient. I was going to have to have a conversation about expectations for the future. We couldn’t keep screwing each other with such vastly different fantasies.
The realization almost got in the way, almost ran me off the road. But Aly was still enjoying the moment, and the pure ecstasy in her moans brought me back. I didn’t know if I could promise her forever, but right then, she deserved my undivided attention.
Our bodies moved together in sync, and we came together hard. Breathless, I withdrew, letting her skirt fall.
“Wow.” She turned around and kissed me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She stooped to pull her underwear back up. “Why are you sorry?”
I skirted the question. “I’d appreciate a ride to work.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked again.
I put my hand down on the sink’s edge, which, only seconds before, she had been gripping in the throes of passion. “I can’t do this.”
Her face hardened into a sculpture of ice. “What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
“I’ll wait outside.” I turned and walked out the door.
I leaned up against her car, watching as she exited the cabin. Her movements were tight and controlled, betraying nothing but anger. I didn’t want to hurt her. Hell, I wanted to make love to her every day for the foreseeable future. I just couldn’t commit to marriage.
I told myself it was better to nip it in the bud. What I was doing might seem cruel, but would it be kinder to lead her down the primrose path, only to break her heart years from now?