Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Nic looks down at me, torn by the invitation and the need to get out of here to get to his Widow’s meeting on time, but when he drops his towel to reveal his stiff cock begging for my attention, I know I’ve got him exactly where I need him.
Nic grabs me with lightning-fast reflexes and throws me up into the air. His arms hook under my legs and I have to grab hold of his head just to keep from falling on the ground. He perches me on top of his tall dresser and instantly spreads my legs as wide as they can go, revealing my already naked self to him.
I’ve been living in nothing but his shirts over the past week and the choice to not wear any panties has definitely worked in my favor multiple times.
Nic meets my eyes, and as his tongue runs over his bottom lip, I know I'm in for a good ride. My pussy is nearly at his head height, and as it throbs for him, his eyes grow excited with need.
I watch as he takes hold of his cock and starts working his hand up and down it, not one to miss out on pleasure where it’s being given. “You ready, babe?” he questions. “This is gonna be fast.”
His head finally dips between my legs and being a man of his word, I instantly feel his tongue swiping through my pussy and putting me out of my misery.
Thirty minutes later, I sit in his shitty little car, wearing pants for the first time all week. He speeds through the streets of Breakers Flats as though he knows them better than the back of his hands. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask, nervously glancing around and making sure no one stares at Nic’s car for longer than necessary. Though no one around here would be stupid enough to rat Nic out to the cops—that’s just asking for a death sentence.
“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ve already called in the order. You can go in and get it. I don’t even need to get out of the car. No one is going to see me.”
“This is just asking for trouble.”
Nic glances across at me, his eyes shining with excitement. “I know.”
“You’re such an idiot,” I laugh as he pulls up outside a restaurant. Nic glances at me again and I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Is this some kind of test to make sure I don’t run away? Do you know how easy it would be to slip into the crowd and leave?”
Nic gives me a cocky grin and winks. “You won’t leave.”
I raise a brow. “How do you know that? I hope you’re not expecting me to get some form of Stockholm syndrome and fall madly in love with you.”
“Here’s to hoping,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a confident smirk. “Besides, judging by the way you’re constantly riding my dick, I’d say you’re already there.”
“Being in love with your cock is very different from being in love with you. Trust me,” I say, swinging open the door and grabbing the cash in the center console. “I’m just using you for good sex. I still think you’re an asshole.”
I get out and slam the door before he gets a chance to say anything back and hurry inside. Despite how easy it would be to make a run for it, I’m kinda hungry, and the thought of actually walking away from Nic right now doesn’t sit well with me.
I have to make this fast. Nic could be caught by anyone out there, and although he belongs in prison, I’m not quite done having my fun with him yet. Maybe he’s onto something about being in love with him. I mean ... I’m definitely not, but I’m certainly feeling all those good things I felt back in high school. The rush when he’s around, the butterflies when he walks into a room, the need to always be close to him—shit. Maybe I am starting to feel something for him again. If that’s the case, I definitely need therapy. There’s gotta be something wrong with me. Who falls in love with a murderer?
Another murderer, that’s who.
I get our dinner and hurry back out to his car, knowing that we have to get back to the warehouse and eat before he runs off again to remind his fellow douchebags that he’s the king of all the douchebags.
My thought has a cheesy smirk ripping across my face, and as I drop down into Nic’s probably stolen car, he glances at me with a curious stare. “What?” he grunts, refusing to take his eyes off me until I answer.
“Nothing,” I say with a laugh. “Just drive before I’m reminded how awful you look in orange.”