Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
He claims my lips again as the orgasm reaches its peak. My legs are shaking, my body thundering, as one voice hisses inside that I should be grateful.
Weston Wyatt wants me, finds me attractive, and is bringing me to orgasm.
But as the release reaches its end, I can’t help but think about the implications of what we’re doing.
Kennedy, the other women, the hopelessness.
He said virgin like he found it sexy, though. That’s something.
He cares enough to read me, to guess.
Finally, he withdraws his hand from my pants, leaning back, his chest heaving like he’s struggling not to leap on me.
“Fuck,” he groans, raising his hand, holding his fingers up to show me the glistening wetness. “Your soaked virgin pussy is ready for my dick. I can feel it.”
“I….”
Biting down, I find it tough to speak, to confirm what he’s saying. Or even acknowledge it.
Suddenly, it’s like all of this was a mistake.
I don’t feel that deep down.
Deep – in the swirling center of my undeniable want – there’s the desire to keep going and agree with him.
To take his cock, his seed, to take everything.
Instead, I stand quickly.
I look down at my man – he’s staring up at me with savage tightness in his expression – and I think about him saying similar things to other women, which tears me up.
I hate it.
“I….”
But what can I say? How can I make this make sense?
Before I can say I… a third time, the door begins to open.
My hands fly to my pants, quickly doing up the button. Weston follows my lead and rises to his feet, wiping his hand on his pants.
Some part of me yells no, don’t do that. I want him to keep a souvenir of this moment.
I turn as Natasha walks into the apartment, her hair styled and wearing a short skirt and a lacy top. It’s the sort of outfit Mom would’ve freaked at her for wearing, but she wouldn’t listen to me.
And anyway, she’s an adult. She can wear what she wants.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish she was wearing something different, something less revealing, with Weston here.
Her crush.
Can this please stop being complicated?
Natasha pauses, head tilted, staring at Weston Wyatt and then at me, then at Weston again… then at me.
“What’s going on?” she asks finally.
It’s difficult to read her tone, but I haven’t forgotten the way she’s often talked about him recently with desire.
I can feel Weston’s gaze on me like he’s reading the moment as skillfully as he read my near admission of being a virgin.
Before I can answer, a car alarm reaches us, loud and cutting.
“Is that yours?” I ask Weston.
He nods, making for the door, as though he’s glad for an escape. “I better go check on it.”
I watch as he strides for the door.
Natasha steps out of his way slowly, gazing up at him, her mouth open like she’s going to start drooling. It makes my belly go tight to think about her wanting him.
What would she say if she knew what just happened?
Weston leaves, and Natasha steps forward.
“What the hell?” she says.
“My boss asked me to help him with some PR stuff,” I invent quickly, hating the lie but not sure what else to say. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce you properly.”
“I wondered whose car that was,” she says quietly.
“What happened to the show?”
“I wasn’t feeling up to it,” Natasha says.
“Oh, sis.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice is still full of disbelief, and she looks at the door as though expecting him to reappear. “I can’t believe Weston Wyatt was in our apartment. Am I dreaming or what?”
Please don’t want him. Please.
“Why don’t we watch a movie or something?” I say.
“Is he coming back up here once he’s dealt with his car?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, taking out my cell phone.
But I am sure.
Certain I can’t tolerate an evening of the three of us, with Natasha staring at him, obsessed.
I’m sorry, Weston, but please don’t come back up here. My sister has a crush on you. It will be awkward.
I debate not sending it, but then I force myself to.
And then, instantly, I regret it.
What if he makes Natasha another of his women too?
CHAPTER 13
Weston
I stride across the street to find three men standing near my car, one of them holding a bottle with a brown paper bag around it. They looked like down-on-their-luck men, and their clothes were stained and baggy.
The closest to my car has a mop of black hair with streaks through it.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
He flinches, looks at me, then looks at his friends.
“Get away from my car.”
There must be something in my tone. Maybe it’s the pain of leaving my woman, the agony of knowing there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
But she just sent me a text, telling me her sister has a crush on me and not to go back up there.