Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Now who’s acting the part of a dimwit? I scold myself. Of course he did!
Maybe if I wasn’t so ignorant of what people do on the cross-thingy, I wouldn’t be so fearful of the unknown. Perhaps I could mentally prepare myself for it, instead of waiting for someone to just drop the bomb. Not a bad idea. I let out a long-winded sigh and read on.
*~*~*
I feel a deep sensation intensify deep in my groin from all the intimate scenes I’ve read thus far, and it has me thinking of Travis.
“Holy shit,” I whisper out loud, horrified by some of the things the characters are doing because I never knew anyone did them. I can’t seem to put this book down, however; it’s too morbidly fascinating. It’s hot, dirty, and raw, and pheromones seem to be radiating off its pages.
I feel my core beginning to pulsate, and the wetness of my own arousal is beginning to soak my panties. How in the hell did I get this way? I feel a throbbing sensation intensifying deep within my groin. I can’t even begin to describe what my body has been awakened to. This growing sexual tension I’m feeling is so new to me. Never in my life could I have ever imagined this type of consuming arousal even existed.
I truly thought romance novels were overly-fabricated. I am simply astounded by the plethora of adjectives that can be combined to describe physical and emotional responses with such clarity that it becomes a reality for the reader. I feel the characters’ needs and wants as if they are my own. I really don’t know how the author does it, because I find myself at a loss for words, unable to describe what my own body is currently experiencing, causing the wetness I feel down...in my…pussy—there, I said it. It’s always been such a taboo word for me, but there is no other way to pay tribute to or describe what my nether regions are feeling right now.
I’ve always hated that word—pussy—and I probably still do. It seems so crass, but I’m not in my right frame of mind at the moment. Jared told me what these drugs would do, and they’ve kicked my hormones into another solar system. My nipples harden, and I curse the book for breaking the Hoover Dam of my sexual sanity. I’m morphing into a sex-starved nympho, and I realize it’s with good reason I’ve always been so reluctant to pick up these types of books. I should’ve stuck with reading The Old Man and the Sea, Huckleberry Finn, Gulliver’s Travels, or my Harry Potter—anything but romance!
I must have lost all reason, especially if I’m arguing with myself over why I feel the need to use the word pussy. The absurd amount of desire coursing through my blood stream, and wanting to figure out a way to describe what my vagina is feeling…is insane! I seem to have no perception of normalcy right now, because I can’t stop thinking about my pussy.
My pussy feels overly-swollen, with a mix of heaviness, throbbing, and a pulsating pain. I have an out-of-control need for release, something more than the one Travis gave me yesterday. I am light-years away from my prudish comfort zone, and I want someone or something to take this frantic feeling away from me.
My body is so overly-desperate right now that at this point, I would even let Nick fuck me; it’s that bad. I know that sounds sick, and now I see the reason these men are so obsessed with this drug they’ve been developing. I pause, realizing I—Julianna Oakley, lifetime attendee of strict, all-girl boarding schools, who has always made her dad and bodyguards put a dollar in the swear jar for even saying ‘damn’—have just thought the words fuck and pussy. That’s twice in two days I’ve turned to using a foul mouth, and I’m almost mortified at myself…almost. I’m too distracted with thoughts of grabbing one of the throw pillows beside me to buck my hips against.
This concoction of Jared’s can make the most unwilling and devout Puritan genuinely beg anyone to release them from this yearning, even if the man was a necrophiliac. The way I’m feeling, I’d even roll over and play dead for the sick fucker. I try desperately to steer my thoughts away from this libidinous way of thinking, but I can’t. The overwhelming feeling of needing to hump something has me going out of my mind. I contemplate for a moment if I have something to break the Plexiglass cases behind the red curtains. It’d be equivalent to looting, I know, but this calls for disaster survival. Hmnn, I look around the room. Will a water bottle work? TV remote? Shit...
I put the book down and close my eyes, trying to make heads or tails of the way I feel. Shielding my eyes with my forearm, I rest the crook of my elbow across my brow and begin to daydream. I think of yesterday in the clinic with Travis’ weight on top of me, holding me down and moving his hips against mine. I imagine Travis being naked and moving over my body, and I feel his hardness graze along my inner thigh as he makes his way up my body. I want to feel his fullness inside me, stretching me, and I remember the orgasmic explosion he brought me.