Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
He opens the drawer and gets something out. It takes me a moment to figure out what it is: a black leather belt. I think I’ve seen him wear it or one like it on several occasions. He lets it unravel first, the loose circle of it, before slowly, very slowly and deliberately looping it around his fist.
I don’t know why he’s doing that.
I don’t know what it means.
But my heart is pounding something fierce.
When the belt is all snaked around his fist and forearm, with only the tail end hanging, he walks to his left and sits in one of those armchairs, his thighs sprawled, his abs bunched up and looking even stronger that way. He goes for the cigarette pack that sits on the side table, something I hadn’t seen until now. The Zippo lighter is right next to it, and after getting a stick out, he lights it with quick movements.
Once lit, he takes a long drag and releases a thick cloud of smoke.
Taking the cigarette out of his mouth and keeping it pinched between the fingers of his belted fist, he says, “Lose the coat.”
It’s softly spoken, but it’s a command. I can hear it.
Eager and shaken and excited and nervous, I do as he says.
Then, finally, finally looking at me and taking another drag, he says, “Crawl to me.”
Chapter 12
My pussy clenches at his words.
I can feel my juices sliding down. I can feel them smearing my thighs, making their way on to the coarse carpet where I was going to keep kneeling till the end of time.
Waiting for his call.
And it has come, hasn’t it?
So I should go.
Only I have never crawled for anyone before. So yes, I’m nervous. But I asked for this. I asked him to let me make him feel better and if me crawling across the room to him, all naked no less, is what he wants, then I’ll do it.
Slowly I come down on all fours and begin.
My long hair forms a curtain around my face, my tits are dangling with every step I take and my knees rub against the rough carpet, my skin getting chafed. The closer I get to him, the more heated I feel.
And I think it’s because of the fiery heat that he’s emanating.
From his naked chest, from his dark eyes.
The way he’s watching me like he wants to eat me alive. That’s the only way to describe it. Intense and blazing hunger.
I also think some of this heat may be my own doing as well. It’s coming from my slippery pussy. From the lust that’s flowing thick in my veins and sitting heavy in my tummy. From the fire that he stokes in me.
Which makes me think that it takes me an eternity to get to him.
An eternity to reach his spread thighs. To enter the cloud of his smoke and scent and come to kneel before him. He’s so tall and broad that when he leans over me it feels like the room has gotten darker.
It feels like I’m really in a shadowed, moonless alley and in the clutches of danger.
Keeping the burning cigarette in his mouth, he reaches forward and goes for my hair. He hefts the majority of my long tresses in his belted fist and brings it to the front, over my shoulder. Then he goes for more and keeps doing it until all my hair’s in the front, hanging down my chest, fluttering over my painfully swollen tit and a turgid nipple and tickling my belly.
And then he proceeds to sift the strands through his long fingers, a frown of concentration between his brows.
I lick my dried lips. “W-what are you doing?”
“Braiding your hair,” he says, his eyes on his task, his cigarette still clenched between his teeth.
Before I can confirm that he said what he said, he begins to do just that. Very carefully and tenderly, he parts my hair in three thick ropes and starts looping one through the other. First under, then over.
Until a lattice forms.
Goose bumps break out on my skin as I watch his dusky fingers working expertly as he makes his way down my long, thick hair, braiding it in loose pleats.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I ask even though I think I know the answer.
“For my sister.”
“So you’d braid her hair?”
“None of the others could. Ledger was too young to learn; Shep was too impatient; Con had other responsibilities. So I volunteered.”
My heart squeezes for the boy he was.
I wonder what he was like back then. Probably just as serious and controlled as he is as a man. And it makes me so sad for him. For the childhood he probably never had. For all the smiles he never smiled and all the laughs he never laughed.
For all the carefree memories he probably didn’t get to make.