Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Deeper!”
I flex my hips and take myself halfway inside of that squeezing ring of flesh, my loins in a state of shocked pleasure, ready to implode. “This ain’t virgin asshole, anymore, little girl. What is it?”
“Daddy’s asshole,” she whispers shakily.
“That’s right, baby.” I work my length in and out, slowly, grinding back in, deep, making her cry out. “Say it louder.”
“That’s Daddy’s asshole,” she screams through her teeth and I hear several groans on the other side of the door. They’re listening. They know I’m fucking a hot twenty-year-old in ways that should make me ashamed to show my face ever again. But what they don’t know is how close I feel to June with my mouth pressed into her neck, her breath patchy like mine, our hearts in a simultaneous sprint. They don’t know how grounded I am in the moment with this girl, when I’m usually a million miles away, completing an impersonal act. They don’t know I feel…home. Valued. Real. Alive.
June makes me feel that way.
June, who rides that intensely snug asshole up and down my shaft, in a slow, teasing wiggle, until I’m blind to anything but that sinful friction, our shuddering moans unmuffled, everyone on the bus listening to me fuck June in the ass, and God help me, I think she likes it. No, I think she loves me putting a claim on her so close to fifty other men. Her eager glance back at me over her shoulder tells me that, as does the quickening pace of her hips.
“Ohhhh fuck. You’re going to make me come. I’m going to come. I’m going to come.”
“Right in my hot, young ass, Daddy,” she cries out. “Please?”
“June Bug,” I grit out, her breathy taunt pushing me right to the edge.
Thank God I have the presence of mind to wedge my fingers between us and stroke her clit with two fingers. Stroking, circling, playing, until I her that telltale whine and she squirts into my palm, and I finally let myself nut, the world going bright white on all sides of me. I plunge every inch of my dick into that forbidden place and grunt gutturally, like a beast of the woods, while waves of hot sperm fire up and out, treating my abdomen to the burning flex of pain, my balls convulsing between the spread cheeks of her bottom. I fill June and overflow her, milky liquid seeping out and coating her buns, dripping onto the bedclothes and the floor between her knees.
“Perfect girl,” I breathe into her hair, roving my mouth down and up the side of her dewy neck while she recovers. “Sexy girl.”
“You make me feel that way,” she whispers.
“You only feel it for me.” I latch onto her earlobe with my teeth, ownership settling over me like a heavy mantel. Locking into place in a way I can’t control. “Mine. Every sweet inch. Every beautiful hole. Every hair on this head. Is mine.”
“That’s nothing new,” she murmurs, boneless beneath me. “I’ve always been yours.”
As she falls asleep beneath me and I arrange her in my arms in bed, worry and doubt start to creep in. How can anyone so perfect belong to someone so imperfect?
Is it possible?
Could I keep her?
If so, how long would it take to realize I’m not worth her time, the way everyone else has done?
NINE
June
Is this really happening?
I’m having a hard time telling the difference between reality and dreams, because I have dreamed of Deke Decker holding my hand since I was a young girl. When we walk out of the back bedroom of the tour bus after five long hours of driving, I don’t expect him to reach down and twine our fingers together. But he does.
Deke Decker holds my hand. Tightly. In a grip that reminds me of his restless, shaking hands in my hair when I gave him my very first blow job. It must have been good, right? Not only are our fingers braided together, but he’s staring down every man who looks in my direction.
“This doesn’t mean I’m your boyfriend,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, even as he’s silently promising death to every man in the vicinity. And rubbing the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb. “You understand?”
A giddy feeling rises up in my chest.
He’s going to cave.
He is actively caving.
Deke Decker wants to be my boyfriend. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Or he’s not willing to accept it.
“Yes,” I say, tilting my head back and giving him a solemn look. “I understand. You’re not my boyfriend.”
He frowns, making a gravelly sound in his throat. “You don’t have to sound so chipper about it.”
“Oh. Well…” Don’t make it so obvious that you see right through him. “I’m just excited about the show.”
Deke hums, clearly distracted as he looks me over. “You sore anywhere, June Bug?”