Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Daddy doesn't move a muscle 'til I give him the green light?” I ask.
“That’s right, baby girl. You call the shots.”
I pivot my hips, fucking myself on him as well as I can while I’m still on my back. Apart from the occasional throb, his cock doesn't move. Not even when his arms start to shake from the strain of holding himself back.
"Feels like you're milking me," he rasps.
I slide my hand between us to stroke my clit.
“I am milking you,” I say. “I want your come inside me.”
“You know what to do, baby.”
“Green light—ahh!”
Austin drags me onto his lap without slipping out of my pussy. His iron grip bites my hips.
“Hold on tight, little girl. This ride's about to get bumpy.”
I cling to his shoulders as he levers me up and down, his hips meeting mine with brutal urgency. His teeth graze my neck. Tension builds in my pelvis, drawing all of my awareness to the thick, hard cock slamming into me.
"Look at those bouncy tits," Austin growls. "So fucking pretty. Pinch your nipples for me."
I squeeze my nipples hard enough to make myself flinch.
"Like this?"
“Oh, fuck, just like that, baby. Just...like...that.” He punctuates every word with a savage thrust. I feel like a bird caught in a hurricane, fighting to hold onto my perch as the wind batters me.
But there’s another storm on the horizon, brewing between my hips and coming in fast.
My orgasm thunders through me, making me moan and clench. Austin groans.
“Daddy's gonna fill you up, Kenzie. Daddy's...gonna...fuck...you...” He holds me in place with a punishing grip as he buries his cock inside me. I feel his body tense and tremble. His cock throbs. I cling to him long after we've stopped moving, until finally, he relaxes his hold.
He cradles my face.
"Talk to me, baby," he says, his voice hoarse. "Was Daddy too rough?"
“No. That was exactly what I needed."
“Good.” He kisses me. “I want you to remember red light and green light. Those are your safe words from now on.”
My lips curve. It feels good to know that I have safe words, even if I never end up using them. "Okay, Daddy. I’ll remember."
10
mckenzie
I scroll through the search results for homemade triple-berry pie recipes on my work computer, skipping over one that calls for frozen berries, and another that uses canned fruit filling. I want to bake a pie that reminds me of the ones Bev made in Gramp’s kitchen, bursting with fresh fruit and topped with a lattice crust. I’ll admit, the lattice top might be pushing it; I’ve never actually rolled out a pie crust by myself. But I'm determined to teach myself how to bake a pie from scratch, because I said I would bring a dessert to Holly's baby shower, and that's what I plan to do.
I’ll be using fresh raspberries from Austin’s berry bushes, and local strawberries and blueberries from a nearby farmstand. The blueberry bushes we put in won’t produce fruit until next year, but I’m excited for the stone fruit to ripen.
After thoroughly touring the orchard, I determined that we have six peach trees, four pear trees, and four apple trees in all. We've managed to prune just over half of them, and now that the peach trees have sprouted leaves, it's only a matter of weeks before we get our first harvest. I can already feel the sticky juice dripping down my chin.
The veggie garden is coming along nicely, too. We started planting too late to grow anything besides lettuce from seed, but the plant nursery offered a good selection of starters. I've sectioned off one corner to use as an herb garden, and planted flowers in between the food crops to bring in the bees.
The front-desk phone rings for the hundredth time this morning. Everyone wants their deck replaced before the Fourth of July. Only three calls have come in for me so far, down from five yesterday, mainly journalists and reporters seeking my comment on the former governor’s early release.
I'm surprised Bridget Howe from Our Nation Today is still only calling on Fridays, still with the same old pitch: an interview about me, not the case, or Hoyt Renier, or the Davis family.
Yeah, still no thanks.
I answer the phone—another deck quote, this time with a built-in hot tub—and forward the call to Mike’s office. I’m back to scrolling recipes when I hear footsteps in the hall.
“Sup, Kenzie?” Jeremy’s smile isn’t as broad as it used to be. Our normally friendly rapport has been strained since the night we had dinner at Rudy’s. Austin still believes Jeremy intended to take advantage of me, but Austin’s wary of every straight-leaning guy who talks to me, aside from a select few.
“Not much,” I reply. “How's your day going?”
“Can't complain.” I could tell Jeremy was disappointed when I mentioned I was moving in with Austin. Now that we’re a couple, Jeremy won't even talk to me when Austin's in the office, unless I speak to him first.