Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
I was going to come, and this was out of the fucking question. Not like this. Not right then.
“Fuck, baby,” I said, picking her up to her feet and backing her into the shower. I caged her into the golden tiles, turning on the hot water. The water lashed at us. It was angry, too. I was still wearing my shoes, dress pants, and shirt, but I didn’t give a damn. My mouth closed in on hers, and we both collided and exploded like two lonely stars somewhere in the dark atmosphere.
“Was that nice enough?” She was still fighting a cough from when I buried my dick inside her mouth. The sound of her gurgling alone was liable to tip me off the edge and make me shoot my load.
“No. Not nice. Perfect. Like you.”
I lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I drove into her so hard and unexpectedly, she cried out and not from pleasure.
I fucked her frantically, knowing that the water was still not hot enough and that I needed to keep her warm. She screamed and clutched me, and we both wobbled backwards from the impact, me still holding her by the ass. I laid her on the floor and pinned her arms above her head, holding her by her wrists.
“What the fuck is eating at you, Rosie? Why are you sad?” I demanded as I pounded into her so desperately, I felt her thighs moving away from me. Like the friction was too much. Rosie was going to feel me, all of me, long after tonight.
“Shh.” She pressed her lips to mine, sucking off the water drops from my lower lip and releasing it with a pop. “Please just let me have tonight.”
I fucked her until there was nothing left of her to fuck, until she was a ragdoll, limp and boneless and content after two violent orgasms that made her spasm under me like she’d been electrocuted.
Then I came inside her, and that was when it hit me. That was when I finally remembered that I didn’t bother to put on a fucking condom.
Fuck. Just…fuck!
I was sure she felt it. The warm, thick cum spilling into her as I found my release, but she didn’t say a thing. Even when it trickled down her thigh, and there was no mistaking it from the water running from the multiple showerheads. She didn’t acknowledge it. No. Rosie continued to stare at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Shit.” My forehead dropped to her lips, and I shook my head, our hair plastered to our skins. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. Sorry. Baby. I didn’t…I swear I’m clean.”
She ran her fingers through my wet hair.
“It’s okay.” Her tone held no color or emotion. She didn’t sound worried or pissed. She didn’t sound anything. “I’m clean, too.”
“I’ll go down and get you one of those morning-after pills,” I muttered, hating that we went from this to that. From pure, bare lust and healthy anger to talking about how we were going to prevent an unwanted pregnancy and potential STDs. I was trying to avert what I was sure was a shitstorm brewing inside her brain. Chicks were sensitive about this kind of stuff, Nina proved me as much, and fuck, I had gone and done the same mistake with Rosie.
“I’m okay, Dean, really.”
She put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, stood up, and started collecting her dress and shoes as I lay there, the water still hitting me like needles.
Fuck.
I FLEW BACK INTO TODOS Santos on Tuesday, leaving Vicious and Jaime behind.
They seemed to be having fun without me, being BFFs and all, so I gave them the space they needed to try each other’s makeup and sample tampons or whatever shit girls did. Because really, these two fuckers were super-tight for men. My opinion, anyway.
If anything, I felt bad about leaving Rosie behind, especially considering how I fucked up remarkably on Sunday night by coming inside her without a fucking condom. Asshole.
One thing you couldn’t take away from me, though…I was a loyal asshole, and Trent needed me. He hadn’t said shit, but I read between the lines, and in our last phone call, there was something off there. He wasn’t completely himself. Trent always had this quiet calm about him. Even when his football career was killed when he broke his leg, even when Val got knocked up and showed up at his door asking for money, even when life grabbed him by the throat and choked—hard—he always grinned and flipped cruel fate his finger.
Not in that last phone call we had, though.
Which was why I boarded that plane.
I always felt closer to Trent. From day one.
Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t born like the rest. Rich, privileged, and ready to rule the piece of the world his ancestors had conquered for him. Maybe it was because he was a decent dude, humble, and content with what we had, even though his family lived in a place that cost less than our yearly landscaping budget. Something drew me to him as a person, and he was the only man I fully trusted out of the HotHoles. The only man I ever considered telling about Nina. Not that we’d ever gone that far, but yeah.