Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Fourteen hours and three stops later, with my parents taking turns to drive, we arrived home. It was just before eight on Wednesday morning. I covered my mouth to muffle my squeal because Ben’s car was in the driveway.
“Whoa, let me get the car stopped,” Dad said as I jumped out and ran toward Ben’s blue Monte Carlo just as he stepped out.
“Hi.” He grinned as I threw my arms around him. “Careful, Pastor Jacobson is watching.”
I released him and signed, “I missed you.”
Ben signed and spoke, “I missed you more.”
I shook my head and took his hand, pulling him toward my dad’s car to unload my things.
“Pastor Jacobson,” Ben greeted my dad with a respectful nod.
My dad returned an uneasy look, and a less noticeable nod, but my mom hugged Ben.
After we unloaded everything and hauled it to my room, my dad stood in the doorway as Ben sat on the end of my bed, watching me sort through my things on the floor.
“The door stays open, young lady,” Dad said.
I narrowed my eyes at him and bit back my smirk while slowly nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
Once he headed down the stairs, I snorted and looked at Ben.
“What?” he said and signed.
I loved that he was making an effort to sign everything he said.
I signed, “My dad said door stays open.”
“Fine,” Ben said, sliding off the side of the bed. “But I want to see my baby.”
I giggled when he guided me to lie back amongst my sorted clothes and the rest of my junk. Ben lifted my shirt, and my heart soared when his face lit up at my noticeable baby bump.
“It’s me, your dad,” he said, kissing my belly.
Listening for any sign of my parents, like the creak of the stairs, I weaved my fingers in his hair and playfully tried to guide his head lower.
Ben stiffened, shooting his gaze up to mine. “What are you doing?”
I smirked.
“Gabbs, I’m not licking your kitty on your bedroom floor with your door open and your parents downstairs.”
I laughed because the way Ben said “licking your kitty” was so matter-of-fact, not seductive at all.
Still, maybe it was too many weeks without him, maybe it was the letters he wrote me, or maybe it was second trimester hormones, but my need for sex was almost painful.
I sat up and signed, “I need,” giving extra emphasis with my face to the need part.
Ben sat back on his heels and shook his head. “Don’t do that.” He adjusted himself. Ben was so sexy in his white T-shirt, black jeans, messy hair, and scruffy face.
Pre-pregnancy Gabby was a romantic, a dreamer. The idea of a chaste kiss and holding hands was everything. Second trimester Gabby needed to orgasm.
No chaste kisses. Only hard kisses with lots of tongue. And when I thought about Ben holding my hands, I imagined him pinning them next to my head as he hovered above me, hips thrusting into mine.
I crawled toward him, and he fell backwards, crab crawling away from me until his back hit the side of my bed.
He shook his head as I straddled his lap. “Gab—”
I kissed him while guiding his hand up my shirt to my breast. He moaned.
“Gabby? Is Ben staying for breakfast? I’m making pancakes,” Mom called upstairs.
I quickly stood and straightened my bra. Ben narrowed his eyes.
I signed, “My mom is making breakfast. You hungry?”
After a second, as if his comprehension had a slight delay, he smirked and nodded.
I turned my head. “Yes, we’ll have pancakes,” I yelled.
Ben stood and closed my door partway so that we were standing behind it. “Quickly and quietly,” he said, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
I nodded, doing the same to my shorts.
Were we really going to remove our pants and have sex behind my partially closed bedroom door with my parents downstairs making breakfast?
Yes, we were.
He impatiently kissed me before either of us got out of our pants. I started to slide my hand down the front of his briefs.
“Gabby? We’re out of eggs. Your dad is going to run and get them. He wants you to ride along. Ben can stay with me.”
They were punishing us on purpose.
I pulled back, breathless and shaking my head while zipping my shorts. He did the same before peeking through the space between the door and its hinges for someone coming.
I wasn’t sure how to sign everything, so I hopped over my sorted piles on the floor to my desk.
I have to go with my dad to get eggs and my mom said you’re staying here with her.
He frowned, taking the pen from me. Ben rarely wrote his words, perhaps he didn’t want to risk my parents hearing him.
Let’s get married. We’ll rent a little house or even a trailer. Then we can have sex all day and there is nothing your dad can do about it.