Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I take another bitter swallow of the beer – beer doesn’t do anything for me; I need a smoke. Maybe I should call it a night and leave. We have one last school on the tour to visit tomorrow so I need my strength to endure that anyway.
And it’s not as if I’m having any fun.
But a second later Sarah touches me, and I freeze at the feel of her small hand.
Her small, dainty hand that I always thought paired up really well with my large body.
She thought so too. Said it made us look like a perfect couple – her, fragile and feminine; me, dominating and masculine.
I bet she’s never hit someone with that hand though.
Nah, Sarah would never do something violent like that.
She’s not like her.
“I just wanted to say hello, A,” Sarah whispers, breaking my thoughts about her sister. “And see how you’re doing. Don’t be mad.”
I look at her a beat, at her beautiful face before replying with mock politeness, “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doing?”
“I would but I don’t care either way.”
She smiles sadly and strokes my chest. “Well, I just… miss you.”
My body tightens. “Is that right?”
“Yes. Don’t you? I mean, despite what happened, don’t you miss me a little, A?”
Her eyes drop to my lips and it doesn’t come as a surprise.
I know she wants me.
She’s wanted me back ever since I found out about her. And I have to admit that there’s a certain satisfaction in denying her.
In making her squirm.
That’s her classic move by the way, when she wants me to kiss her. Whispered words and sneaky glances to the lips. A subtle game of femininity that I’ve always found very hot.
What can I say? I like sex.
It’s always been a natural relaxant. Something to take the edge off. Besides smoking, I mean.
And sex between us has always been pretty fucking hot. She’s small in all the ways I like and I’m big in all the ways that makes things tight and interesting.
“You want to be kissed,” I conclude in a low whisper that I know gets her going.
She glances at my lips again, her hand on my body growing urgent, grasping. “I don’t know. I just… I want you.”
Which means, yes, she wants to be kissed.
This is her way of appearing as feminine as possible.
Again, I’m not going to deny that it gets me hot; I like to dominate, and she doesn’t mind.
She takes it all.
And for a second there it almost does get me going.
Until I realize that’s all she ever does.
She takes it but she doesn’t give it back.
She doesn’t writhe under me, trying to fuck me back. She doesn’t fist my hair and pull at it. She doesn’t scratch me with her nails, goad me by breaking my rules.
She doesn’t wear tiny little skirts or leave me sexy fucking notes.
She doesn’t fan my aggression and provoke me into fucking her harder.
Into reining her in.
I look at Sarah, the perfect good girl, the girl I’ve been with for the last eight years, and I realize that… she’s a little too perfect. A little too boring.
Kissing her feels boring too.
The same song and dance that we’ve been doing for eight long years.
“What do you think your new boyfriend would say to you kissing your old boyfriend? Or maybe you’ve done it so many times now to your old boyfriend – you know, going behind his back and all that – that you can’t tell the difference between right or wrong anymore.”
Sarah draws back as if I’ve slapped her.
Whatever.
I step away from her, ready to leave and get the fuck out of this party, but again, she stops me. This time with her words.
“This is not about Ben.”
“But you’re still fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Why, are you jealous?”
I think about it and my answer automatically slips out, “Strangely, no.”
Before I can analyze it, she says, “So what’s the problem? Why can’t you let this go?”
“Maybe because you cheated on me and lied to me. That tends to piss people off.”
Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Do you have any idea how big of a mistake you’re making right now?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
She exhales sharply. “Why do you think we were together, A? Why do you think we got together in the first place? It’s because we matched in every way. I was ambitious and so were you. I was driven and so were you. We had this mutual attraction. You’re as handsome as I am beautiful. We were together because being with each other made sense. Being with each other was easy. It was convenient.”
I look into her eyes, her golden eyes that I found so rare. So fascinating and original. Something to be prized.
Something like perfection.
But now, like her, they seem boring. They don’t tilt up at the corners. They don’t shine as much.