Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
He falls for it, trying to grab me, but I go right, and book it out of the bedroom and into his big master closet. I can hear his footsteps behind me, heavy and serious, but I manage to get myself hidden in the back, in and amongst his clothes, hidden behind dark fabric that smells like danger and power.
I will myself to be calm and still. All these years of performing, of being watched, of controlling my nerves, it finally pays off. I still my breathing and slow my heart, letting myself focus on the coolness of his shirts against my cheeks.
“What the fuck, Jess,” he growls. I see him from between two long sleeved blue shirts. I press my butt up against the back wall of the closet, tucking my hands behind me, focusing on way the wall feels cool against my fingertips. “You know I’m going to find you. You know how this ends.”
Do I, though? Do I? I’m in a house alone with a man that I want so much that I can barely see straight. A man who is not only like a surrogate dad to me but who is also my best friend’s dad. A man whose body, whose face, whose scent has haunted my dreams for months.
So do I know how this ends?
I don’t have a stinking clue.
But my body certainly wants to find out. And so does my heart.
Footsteps closer now. His breathing, measured and intense. Even though I can’t see him, I can feel his power, feel his strength, coming off him like heat. The scratch of metal hangers on the hanger rod. Closer. And closer. I hold my breath. I close my eyes. I stop my breathing.
And then, when he checks the other side of the closet, I bolt back out the door.
Around the corner. Down the steps.
The rush of the chase taking on a life of it’s own.
The house that I know as well as my own becomes a fuzzy blur. Carpet on my feet. Now tile. Now wood. Now out the back door, the feel of the patio stones on my bare feet, the dew of the grass kissing my ankles.
Running. Running. Breaths are burning now. A hitch in my side as I will my feet to go further.
Then, a strong arm whips around my waist, now a stumble, and whump, I’m down. I land face-first in the dewy grass, gasping for air. My body panics, screams out in worry.
I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe.
But I remember this feeling, from horseback riding. I’ve been winded, that’s all, and I force myself to suck in a breath.
Strong hands on my ankles, pulling me, dragging me, taking me. I squirm and kick to get away, and dig my fingers into the roots of the grass, trying to claw my way away.
He flips me over, straddling me, one hand to my throat. He’s wearing gym shorts, and I feel his erection pushing hard into my belly, through my little “STRINGS ATTACHED!” youth symphony tank top.
“Fuck you, you little tease.”
The words are hard and demanding, but the tone—it’s hot caramel on an ice cream sundae melting my creamy center.
I watch him, with my chest heaving, with my tits almost spilling out. His eyes flash down at my hard nipples and I feel his cock twitch against me.
Lord have mercy on me and Mike Hawthorne.
The temperature my body starts to rise, rise, rise, radiating out from my pussy, like a sunburst, like an explosion. And as the heat rises, so does my desire. I’ve never wanted anything so much as I want him.
“You terrify me.”
“So do you,” he growls. He sounds angry about it. Angry enough that I can’t look away. “You and me. That’s what I need, Jess. You’re all I fucking need. All I fucking want.”
He unpins me a little, shifting his weight. I feel the blades of grass tickle the back of my neck as he pushes my legs back slightly. Now I feel his erection against the wet spot that my pussy has left in my boxers.
I let my eyes flutter shut as he groans.
“Look at that mess you made, little girl.” He slides his finger just inside my boxers—not penetrating me, but caressing that soft spot where my labia meet my lips. That fleshy ripple that nobody but me has ever seen.
I look up into the sky, into the cloudless morning light. We are outside, in his yard, but surrounded by trees, hidden and sheltered from the entire world. It’s like an out of body experience. I can see us together, as if looking down. Big Mike Hawthorne, and little, freckled messy me, with my red hair all in knots in my ridiculous PJs.
And it’s just so beautiful, so right. Us together.
I trail my fingers down his forearm. “I can’t stop thinking about you. But…” I swallow hard, letting my thoughts trail off.