Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Bloody hell.
A low, soft chuckle tickles my ear, and a tingle dances down my spine. A moment later, and he’s yanking me towards him –
Everything happens so fast, and the next thing I know I’m squeaking in shock as I find myself straddling his lap. His fingers bite into my hips as he pulls me even closer, and that’s when I feel him.
He’s still so unbelievably hard.
My gaze jerks up to his, and his cruelly beautiful lips form the most angelic of smiles.
Uh. Oh.
“It’s time to play with my toy.”
Oh, yes. I mean – oh, no.
An hour – maybe more – must have passed by the time he’s, umm, done with me, and he pulls me in his arms after that, my body still trembling, my heart still thudding, my lungs still gasping for oxygen. It’s the usual post-orgasm aftershocks in other words, and I can’t help reddening as I feel him smile against my hair.
“Not funny,” I mumble.
“I think it’s delightful, senpai, that I can still take your breath away after all this time.”
“Hmph.” But then his arms tighten around me, just below my breasts. It’s too much temptation – and my body melts. What am I supposed to be mad for again?
For a while, we just stay there, and it feels so good I almost forget that life isn’t perfect.
Almost.
But then I hear him whisper—-
“I’ll need to take you home soon.”
And reality beckons.
I know he’s waiting for me to answer, but my lips refuse to move. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like if I don’t say anything then nothing I fear will be true, and I can pretend everything is still the way it was.
“Senpai?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to go home yet. That’s my answer. I just...I just want to spend every moment I can with him. It’s such a simple thing to want, so why does everyone seem to think it’s too much?
He turns me around, and when he inhales sharply, that’s only the time I realize my tears have started to fall. I quickly wipe them away, mumbling, “It’s nothing.”
“Of course it’s not nothing.” His voice is filled with strain and regret, and I hate myself even more for it. He’s got so much on his plate now, blast it. The last thing he needs is a weepy, self-centered girlfriend to add to his worries.
“I’m fine. Really.” I give him my widest and brightest smile, but it doesn’t work, and the tension in his form remains. “Please don’t worry about me. Please?”
“I can’t help it.”
His voice was low and bitter, and I just can’t stop feeling worse and worse. What the bloody hell are you doing, KC? You’re supposed to soothe his troubles away instead of acting like a spoiled kid.
I impulsively rise to my knees, the bed dipping at the movement, but I quickly shake my head when he starts to rise. For one moment, he’s tense, looking up at me like he thinks I don’t even have the strength to do anything this simple if he’s not doing it with me—-
“Please.”
Another moment, and he falls back against the bed, letting me win, like I know he would. These days, he always lets me win. I should be glad for it. But I’m not.
“I know you still don’t believe me, but I mean it, okay? You don’t have to worry over me,” I stress.
But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even nod, and only looks at me with eyes that are just too blasted old for a seventeen-year-old guy.
“I mean it,” I say fiercely. “And I promise I won’t be stupid again. So...stop worrying?” My voice catches. “Please?”
There’s a long moment of silence, and then he simply nods. “Okay.”
I force myself to smile. “Good.” But we know we’re both lying, and with every second that passes the weight of our self-deception only grows heavier.
We don’t speak the entire ride home, and the silence hurts. I don’t want to get mad at him. I know I shouldn’t, but even so I can’t stop the resentment inside of me from growing. When we reach my place, I automatically reach for the handle to open the door, wanting to get away—-
And that’s when I forget.
You can’t outrun a god.
Again, his reflexes kick in more swiftly, and he yanks me back before I can get out of his car, forcing me to face him even as I struggle against his hold. “Let go, blast it. Let—-”
The rest of my words are lost in his kiss.
For the first few moments, I do my best to struggle. I give it my all, my heart in so much pain that for once, I do really want to be free of him.
But it’s no use.
The way he’s kissing me makes me remember of how perfect it used to be, of how perfect it can only be between us—-