Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He worries too much, but I also secretly love that about him. I’m just too scared to drive alone, and I hate to admit it, but I like Joey. He’s fun, and none of the boys at school would think of putting a sign on my back when he’s around, because he’s also scary.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he answers with a hard stare, as wetness drips down into the crack of my buttocks. “You’re fucking perfect. A pussy a father can be proud of. It’s a masterpiece, baby.”
He shudders, and as much as I want to close my legs and have this be over, there’s a shimmer in his eyes that makes me feel like he’s looking at something precious. Rare.
Masterpiece, baby.
“Any man who got a peek at what you have would do what I’m doing now. Drop to his knees in worship, baby. There’s nothing fucking wrong with you. You’ve got the fucking jackpot of jackpots there between your legs, and let me be really fucking clear that no other man will ever, ever see you like this, do you understand?”
The question feels like a knife in my heart as my womanhood throbs and pulses. I’m shaking and fighting for air as I nod, confused, but my body releases more moisture, and my hips start to rise and fall without permission.
He blinks slowly, his hand moving between his legs, over the fabric of his jeans, as I swallow around the ball of turmoil in my throat.
“So, I’m not a freak?”
“No, baby. You’re my little freak, though, but it’s not because of your clit. It’s because I’m a bad man in so many ways, and there are things I want to do to you, things you will do for me that will turn you into the perfect little slutty freak I need you to be. Now, as far as this clit? Nothing wrong a little coconut oil won’t fix,” he says, bringing the hand with the oil in it upward.
His hand moves forward, and I suck in and hold a breath. Is he going to touch me?
God, he is. My heart slams around in my chest as he pauses, his hand trembling before he angles it just so, and connects the slick substance in his palm with the outside of my spread, throbbing womanhood.
I gasp as his palm touches me there, the wetness of the oil dribbling over my lips before his fingertips spread it up, then, oh my God, he’s pushing it inside.
I close my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me crying out as more molten need spills from my pussy. My body is furnace hot, and my muscles twitch and cramp.
“Stay quiet now, little girl.” His rumbling voice is strained as he shifts forward onto his knees, pushing up from the crouching position so he’s closer now, rubbing me in sinful circles around my clit, then moving his fingers again at my opening. “You’re going to turn me into a man who wants to fuck his own little girl, showing me all of this.”
I see where his erection pushes out on his jeans. Even as I battle to keep my eyes on his, I can’t. He shifts his feet as rugged fingers explore and examine me. I know the hungry look on his face isn’t just because he didn’t eat enough dinner.
I’m sheltered, I know that. My father kept a short leash on me, but once he was gone, Reuben turned that into practically a choke chain. But I see things. On the street, online, the winding pull in my belly and the twisted knot in his forehead tell me we are playing very close to a fire that could burn us both.
But I don’t want to stop. I need this. I need his touch, the way he’s petting me slow and steady, then working his fingers on my clit, up and down, his pupils blown out as they stay pinned on my face as my thrums like a hummingbird, and I’m overheating in all my most intimate spaces.
“No one has touched you before, have they? Say fucking no, baby, or my next question will be who, and trust me when I say, their lives will be forever changed when I find them.”
I shake my head as the pads of his fingers find that aching, needy spot at the top of my pussy. “No one,” I whimper, as he keeps stroking, stroking, as my legs shake and my hands dart out to take hold of the armrests with my eyes rolled back half into my head.
He’s petting me there, working my clit in ways I’ve dreamed about for so long. That ball of tightness below my belly button is turning into a knot, and when I finally open my eyes again, he’s still just staring at me.
We lock eyes, and I see the man who helped raise me. That gray at his temples, the lines around his blue eyes, the wisdom I’ve trusted for as far back as I can remember, now twisted into this perversion that has us both locked in its meaty hooks.