Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“So fucking….ahhh” Preppy roared, and with one final thrust he pulled out of me and I felt the loss, my pussy clenching at nothing but the space he’d filled. He spread my ass cheeks with one hand and I turned my head just in time to watch him take his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he spurt hot streams of white, directly into my most private of places. Preppy groaned, as he watched his cum drip from my ass over my swollen pussy. His groaning, his sounds of pleasure, sounds that I caused, was like music, a song I never wanted to end.
The train passed, leaving an echo of screeching metal in its wake. Preppy flipped me over and collapsed on top of me, between my still spread legs. His cock resting over my pussy, still pulsing against me as he recovered from his own orgasm.
“Your pussy,” Preppy said, trying to catch his breath. He was hunched over my body with his chin resting between my breasts, looking up at me through eyelashes so long, it wasn’t fair for them to be on a man. “Fuck, it’s so fucking good,” he muttered, thrusting against me with his still hard, yet softening cock like he couldn’t get enough.
Preppy may not have been able to keep me, but I’d been wrong on the other account.
Because after that night there was no denying that he owned me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DRE
“Tell me about Conner. Tell me why he didn’t deserve what I did to him.”
I rolled away, but he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me back. “Tell me and I promise if I can help take away that hurt I will,” he said, in a moment of sweetness that surprised me.
And I was tired of living with the burden. As much as I didn’t want to ever recall what happened in my head, never mind speak it out loud, the words just started to flow.
“My dad’s just a regular guy. He was always kind of lost. He’s an engineer but never stayed with the same firm for too long, a few years at most. Then he found Jan and everything changed. They got married and he was happy again. Jan wasn’t my most favorite person but I guess stepmom’s never are, but she was nice enough and she made him smile, that’s all that mattered. What I liked best was who she brought with her.”
“Who?” Preppy asked, tracing lazy circles around my belly button.
“My stepsister, Amelia. I called her Mellie. That’s who I was writing the letter to. I really wasn’t trying to kill myself, just unburden my soul. After the cemetery and Conner and everything, I didn’t know what to do so I just started writing.”
“You said you don’t have anyone. Why didn’t you try calling her?”
“I can’t,” I admitted, choking down a sob. “She’s dead.”
Preppy nodded in understanding. “People die, Doc.”
“They do,” I said, inhaling a shaky deep breath, “but she’s the only person I’ve killed.” And before I could convince myself that it was a bad idea, I was rubbing the scar on the side of my face and was telling Preppy the story that’s haunted me since the day it happened. The story that started and ended it all.
I don’t drive.
I never learned how. Well, I never finished learning.
My stepsister. She was older. She was eighteen and just about to leave for college. She was going to be gone, she didn’t need to be nice to me, she didn’t even need to ever see me really. We were only going to be living together in the same house for a few months.
She was pretty. Tall, blond, huge blue eyes. She turned down modeling contracts because she wanted to focus on her education. She wanted to be a doctor, not just any doctor, but one of the ones that traveled to other countries and treat people without access to medical care. She was a good person and that’s what makes this all so much worse. If she was a bad person, someone like, someone like me, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad but it is and every day it hurts more, even though they say it’s supposed to hurt less.
I’d just gotten my driver’s permit. My dad was supposed to take me driving that Saturday, but he called and couldn’t make it. Work stuff. When Mellie saw how disappointed I was, she volunteered to take me.
We went to this abandoned parking lot next to the highway. She was so patient and I was such a brat. Nervous laughter. But then I got the hang of it, or so I thought I did. We sang along to the radio and must have gone around that damn parking lot a hundred times.
We were almost out of gas. I put the car in park and reached for the handle so we could switch and go get gas. Mellie said that it was close and I could drive.