Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I wanted her.
Painfully. Badly. Absolutely.
But I also didn’t want to be that guy that took advantage of a woman in the state that Turner was currently in. Tomorrow she might wake up, realize what she’d done, and hate herself for it. Or worse yet, hate me.
And I didn’t want her to hate me.
I was beginning to actually like her.
A lot.
I was also realizing that maybe the way my ex-wife had treated me previously had made me bitter toward women, and that wasn’t fair.
Cher had royally screwed me over and continued to do so on a monthly basis, but I couldn’t hold Cher’s sins against Turner.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Turner asked, brushing her hands against my jaw.
Her fingernails dug slightly into my beard, scratching lightly, causing me to jut my jaw out slightly to give her better access.
“I’m thinking that this is probably a terrible idea,” I said, feeling her stiffen. “Not because I don’t want you, but because I don’t want to be that a-hole that takes advantage when he shouldn’t.”
She deflated on top of me, then leaned forward and pressed her mouth against my jaw, dropping a chaste kiss there. She moved to the skin just under my ear, and I nearly groaned when she started kissing there.
“You need to stop thinking so hard,” she suggested. “Maybe just shut that big brain of yours off and let the little head do all the thinking.”
That was the best advice I’d heard all year.
I weighed the good and the bad of what I was about to do. Tried to tell myself that having sex with her, making her forget, would make me a bad person.
But then I decided that it didn’t matter.
I knew that I was a bad person. One more act wouldn’t kill me.
And God, did I want her.
Chapter 11
My tacos arrived with a fork on the plate. I can only guess it’s there to stab taco thieves.
-Turner to Castiel
Turner
I honestly wasn’t a hundred percent sure where this newfound confidence had come from.
Maybe it was because I had nothing left to lose.
Maybe it was because I was already lost and broken that it didn’t matter whether he rejected me or not.
Not that I actually thought he’d reject me.
His attraction to me wasn’t under question right then. I mean, I could feel his want for me pressed up against the apex of my thighs. It was his willingness to do something for me that went against his moral code.
He didn’t want to take advantage of me in my current state.
Not that I blamed him.
I might not have done it either…but I was hoping that he did it for me.
He was a good guy, though, and there was definitely a question of if.
I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to decide if this was a good idea or not.
That was when I made the decision for him.
Unfolding myself up out of his lap, I crawled backward until I was standing.
His eyes stayed on me as I slowly kicked my high heels off, then went even farther to lift my dress up, gathering handfuls until it was up by my waist. Once I had it up, exposing my panties to him, I slowly hooked a finger in each side of the waistband and pushed them down my legs.
His breathing caught, and he shifted restlessly on the couch. His eyes were fixated on my thighs, and I saw the moment that the decision in his head was made.
His eyes snapped up to mine, his mouth slightly open, and he launched himself forward.
One second, I was trying to entice him by letting it happen slowly, and the next I was in his arms, once again straddling his thighs, and he was kissing the hell out of me.
“Oh, fuck,” he said against my lips. “I’m so going to hell.”
I laughed into his mouth.
“You’re not going to hell because you want to have sex with me,” I told him bluntly. “If you’re going to hell, it’s because of something else.”
He snorted and went back to my mouth, once again kissing me breathless.
While he did, I started wiggling back and forth on the rigid cock I could feel parting my pussy lips, rubbing myself against him for a few long seconds before I realized what I was doing.
“Shit,” I said, pulling my ass up off his lap. “I’m probably soaking your pants.”
“Fuck my pants,” he declared. “I have a change of clothes in my saddlebags.”
I snickered against his mouth, and then gasped when he tugged slightly on the top of my dress, effectively disrobing my top half in half a second flat.
My belly clenched when I realized that he’d see my breasts—my big breasts that were thankfully perky due to the surgery I’d had two years ago—but were still on the large side.