Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
His eyes darken, pupils expanding until they nearly swallow the color. "Felt like what?" His voice drops lower, rough velvet dragging across my senses. "Let me guess,” he amends as his tongue takes a slow trek across his upper teeth, stalling the movement of his hand before brutally squeezing the meat at the base where it’s jutting out from the opening in his jeans, turning the tip an angry purple. "You’re squeezing those pretty little thighs together trying to hold something back, but it only makes it worse. Heat is rushing around inside you—”
"Like I'm burning," I cut him off, the confession slipping out before I can censor it. "Like I need something I can't name. Like I’ve never been so hungry for something, but it’s deeper, needy. Desperate."
The sound he makes is almost pained. "I can name it." His strokes slow and deliberate now, showing off as I wet my lips. “God help me,” conflict twists the lines of his face before he blurts out, “you shouldn’t have come in here.”
I take a half-step closer without meaning to. "But... my dad said, if you need anything, Jack Boone will take care of you. And I need to learn. I want you to teach.”
"Holy shit, little girl." His gaze is molten, pinning me in place. “You know I’m old enough to be your fucking father.”
Somehow that only makes it hotter and all I can do is shrug, watching as his cheat heaves. The dark hair curls into little tufts which contrasts with the hard lines of the twitching muscles underneath.
"Sit your ass down. There. Is my best friend’s daughter being a cock teasing little brat, or was that really just a little oopsie having your tit winking at me from under my own god-damn shirt in there?" He’s making demands, throwing around orders, and instead of doing the sensible thing and bolting for the door, I move to the wooden chair next to me and plop down as instructed, the boxers sticking to my sex between my legs. “Now, you’re going to sit there and trust me, aren’t you? I’m not going to touch you, and you’re sure as shit not going to touch me, got it?”
His voice takes on a harder edge, frustration and a seductive sort of forced calm coming over him.
The word 'trust' should scare me after David. Should make me retreat. Instead, it settles between my legs like a sex toy and I manage a nod as he grabs the back of a matching unfinished wooden chair and swings it into place in front of me, dropping into a wide manspread so we are nearly knee to knee.
I consider the craziness of this situation for a moment. I’ve been here, what? A day? Probably not even quite that. I’m alone in a cabin with no one for miles and maybe this man isn’t who my father thought he was. I mean, clearly, he’s a recluse. How much could my father know about him?
He never came around in the eighteen years I’ve been alive. I remember my dad saying he was going to visit Jack a couple times, but other than that, I don’t know how much contact they had after I was born.
He could be like the Deliverance guys. Am I three minutes away from being collared and shoved in a cage with a piggly wiggly butt plug as my new best friend?
And why does that turn me on so much?
Jesus, girl, get a grip!
“You need to answer me when I ask you a question.” Jack’s voice takes on a fatherly sternness as he snaps his tongue in his cheek, a tick twitching under his eye as he continues slowly, tortuously stroking himself, turning any survival fear I try to concoct into blissful wet eagerness down low.
“Yes,” I breathe, chewing on the inside of my lip. “I trust you. I’m going to do as you tell me.”
He nods, and that tiny look of approval in his eyes has my insides turning to girl goo.
“That’s where everything starts. The entire foundation is built on trust.” He slow blinks twice as I curl my toes, sawdust squeezing between them. His dark lashes are longer than should be allowed on a man.
“I trusted my father. He’s the one that sent me to you. So, you’re sort of my new father.”
“Don’t say that. I’m nothing like your father. He was a good man, he would never do this.” He chokes on the words but his hand moves faster, telling me something he won’t.
I don’t know what comes over me, but the effect I’m having on him is intoxicating. I bite my lip, keep eye contact, wiggle and swing my feet like an impatient child. “Okay, Daddy,” I say in my most obedient voice.
He nearly chokes. “What the fuck did you just say?”