Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
I thought I knew where I stood with Jonah when he made me a sandwich, but apparently I was mistaken.
Closing my eyes, I pretend that my hands aren’t mine, that they belong to someone else. Someone who wouldn’t hurt me. It’s not that I hate being touched. I’m just used to keeping my distance, so much so that now, when people try to touch me, it feels like a carpet shock.
I cradle my breasts and flutter my fingertips over my nipples. It feels good. I haven’t felt comfortable enough to let myself feel this good in a long time, and even though I’m standing in a strange shower in a strange house with a strange man, who could definitely bench press me, I feel safe enough to let my guard down.
How crazy is that?
What’s even crazier is the realization that if Jonah wanted to touch me like this, I would let him.
I open my mouth to the water and let it fill me up as I glide a soapy hand between my thighs. Little jolts of pleasure zip through me as I rock my palm against my pussy. Usually, when I feel safe enough to masturbate, I imagine a faceless man, but tonight, the man is wearing Jonah’s face.
Jonah’s lips on mine, his hand in my hair, his fingers stroking my clit.
I can’t say I’ve ever fantasized about my foster dads or brothers, and while there were a few guys who would’ve eagerly fooled around with me at the group home, I never wanted any of them. This longing for Jonah is new and different and, honestly, kind of scary. I mean, how am I supposed to face him in the morning? I’ll be sitting across from him at breakfast trying not to think about how damn big he is.
So much bigger than me.
Big enough to pull me onto his lap and rock me to sleep like a baby.
I don’t know why, but that image and the feeling of being cherished, makes my clit flutter. It isn’t sexual, but it’s the sexiest thing I’ve dared to imagine. I picture myself on Jonah’s lap, dressed like a little girl in a pretty pink dress, bouncing on his knee.
I picture Jonah’s hands petting and stroking me everywhere. His fingers skimming down my cheek to wrap around my neck, as his free hand reaches under my dress to pet my pussy.
He asks if I’ve been a good girl, tells me to spread my legs and show him my private places. I do what he asks, and as I do, I feel my pussy tightening.
I moan softly and pray the noise is drowned out by the shower. My legs shake as my pussy throbs.
I’m coming. Hard. Harder than I have in a long, long time.
“Ahhh...” I ride out the residual tremors and take a second to catch my breath. Sure enough, the regret begins to pour in as soon as I float back to earth.
Jonah might seem different from the others, but he’s not. How could he be? This is just another placement, and I’ve been bounced from place to place enough times to know that nothing is ever permanent. The sooner I remember that, the better, because I could get used to taking showers like these, and that would lead to nothing but disappointment.
I rinse and then shut off the spray. Wringing excess water from my hair, I ease the shower door open and realize too late that I left my towel on the other side of the room. Mouthing the word fuck, I step out onto the bathmat and pad across the dark tile.
Halfway to the sink, my wet foot skids, and I drop.
My ass smacks against the floor, followed by my elbow. A blast of pain explodes at the base of my spine and in my right arm. I yelp, the sound coming out loud enough to shock me, and I’m the one who made it.
Footsteps thunder down the hall. There’s no time, and I’m in far too much pain, to cover myself before the door crashes open.
“Teagan,” Jonah says, and I realize then and there that I’m in love with the sound of my name on his tongue. He kneels beside me, his gaze wild with concern. “Did you slip?”
“I forgot my towel.” I wince as he lifts my arm to check my range of motion. My elbow throbs, but my skin where he’s touching me feels...normal.
No, better than normal. No shocks, no jolts. Just warm tingles.
“Can you bend it?” he asks.
It hurts like hell, but I can manage.
Jonah scans me for further bruises, his gaze hitching on my mouth as my tongue slips out to wet my lips. My pulse races. He looks down at my body and it’s like he’s just now realizing that I’m naked.
I should be nervous, but I’m not—not in the way most people would be if a stranger barged in on them in the bathroom. I’m nervous because I like the way he’s looking at me. Because I love the feel of his hands on my skin.