Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
His breath hitches when I open my throat, my nose pressed against his body, my airway totally blocked, spit streaming from my bottom lip.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful like that. Look up at me, I want to see those eyes as my cock gets stuffed down your throat.”
My eyes water violently as I gag, reflexive coughs erupting between desperate gulps of air. A shaky sob escapes when he stills inside me, a salty precursor to what’s about to happen spreading over my taste buds.
His massive body tightens, then shakes violently.
“Shit, baby—” he groans, as I swallow down the creamy spend.
His shaft jerks in my grip as I take the last spurts, working my throat around the tip until he’s calling for God and I feel like I just won the lottery.
When I’m shaking, covered in cum and spit, he drags me from my knees onto his lap.
“You okay?” That fear returns to his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” I swipe the back of my hand over my swollen lips. “I loved it. Let me try again. This time—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I gotta ease into this. You’re gonna be the one to break me if you’re not careful.”
His lips crash against mine before I can argue. One hand circles my neck with a squeeze. “Daddy likes to control your breath, baby. Now get in my bed, I’ve got a few things of my own I want to try.”
I wiggle on his lap, clapping, my voice a hiss as his hand tightens around my throat. “Teach me, Daddy. Teach me how to be a good girl.”
“I will. Trust me, I will.”
Twelve
Tessa
The sound of Beau making coffee pulls me from sleep.
I'm lying in his bed, wearing nothing but his Snap-On t-shirt, staring at the wooden ceiling beams while guilt eats me alive from the inside out.
Yesterday was perfect. Too perfect. For the whole day, I forgot about everything except the way this man worships my body, the way he makes me feel cherished and protected and owned.
My phone sits on the nightstand where I left it last night, and I can see the screen lighting up with notifications. Messages I've been ignoring while I played house with a man who doesn't even know my real name.
I reach for the phone with shaking hands.
The first message stops my heart.
Ethan: Where are you? I needed you and you just disappeared.
The hurt in those words cuts deeper than any knife.
Ethan: You promised we'd stick together. You PROMISED. I kept calling, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Are you ever coming back?
I scroll through his messages with tears streaming down my face, watching days of my brother's pain unfold while I was lost in my perfect bubble of happiness.
Ethan: I thought you cared about me.
Ethan: Dad's drinking more. I thought he was going to hit me last night. Mom's worse. I have nobody.
Ethan: You said you'd always be there for me. But you left. Where did you even go?
Ethan: I guess I know where I stand now.
The phone slips from my hands, clattering against the wooden nightstand. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they keep coming.
He's just a kid, and I'm all he has. I promised him I would always be there for him. That no matter what happened to our family, we'd stick together.
And the first chance I got to be happy, I ran away and left him behind.
"Morning, princess."
Beau appears in the doorway carrying two mugs of coffee, and the sight of him makes my chest ache. Hair mussed from sleep, bare chest, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans. His dark beard is flecked with silver, and there’s nothing but love in those pale-blue eyes.
He's beautiful and protective and everything I've ever wanted.
And I'm about to lose him.
"You okay?" His eyes search my face, taking in my tears and the phone in my lap. "What the fuck’s wrong? Did I hurt you last night?"
"No. Just..." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "Family stuff."
He sets the coffee on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. "Talk to me. You tell Daddy everything, no matter what."
The endearment makes something twist painfully in my chest. I want to tell him everything.
I want to fall into his arms and let him fix it all. But I can't. Not when Ethan is suffering because of my selfishness.
"I need to use your computer," I say instead, my voice cracking as I wipe away tears. "I need to figure some things out with... work stuff."
"Of course, baby. Password is ENGINE2024, all caps."
I slip out of bed, pulling his t-shirt down to cover myself, and pad barefoot to his office. My hands are shaking as I wake up his computer, trying to figure out how to book a flight back to New York. How to fix the mess I've made of everything.