Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
His moan sends goose bumps along my skin, the lustful sound causing wetness to pool between my thighs. Nothing else matters at this moment except the man in front of me and watching the pleasure that I'm determined to give him. I know a million and one things are waiting for us outside of the lustful bubble we've created for ourselves, but having another moment of reprieve from it at least keeps my anxiety at bay.
My name becomes a beacon of encouragement each time he moans it, his pleasure increasing my own despite me not even being stimulated. I now realize how much of a turn-on it is to know that you're making your partner feel good, even more so for me since I don't have as much experience in sex as he does.
"That's it, princess. I'm so close," he murmurs. I stroke him with a firmer grip and suck a little faster until he's nearly writhing on the bed. Pain blooms on my scalp when his hand tightens on my golden strands, the muscles in his thighs tensing. I will myself not to gag when his pumps into my mouth while his hand keeps my head hostage. After a few moments, his entire body shudders as a guttural moan fills the room as he floods my mouth. The taste of him invades my tastebuds and makes my head dizzy with lust as I swallow him down before releasing his cock from my mouth with a soft pop.
Trent closes his eyes as he pants, his hand gently stroking my hair.
"That's a hell of a way to wake up," he says with a light chuckle.
I scoot back up to the head of the bed and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "I just wanted to return the favor from last night," I say.
He looks over at the nightstand, seeing it's a little after eight in the morning. "We should probably start moving for the day." I force myself not to frown. Just that quick, it's already back to business with him. It's probably unrealistic of me to think we can stay like this in his bed forever, but we still have to face everything outside of his house. I still need to check on my dad, and we also need to figure out what our next steps are. The quicker we resolve this issue, the sooner I can return to my life.
Once we get cleaned up, we grab breakfast from a nearby drive-through, opting to eat in the car. After the attack yesterday, Trent thinks it's best to avoid being seen too much in public now until we know who to look out for. I pick at my breakfast sandwich, needling anxiety robbing me of my appetite.
"I've been thinking about how different our lives are." I break the silence around us. "I mean, I'm just a college student who does social media while you're a literal assassin who's over ten years older than me." I keep my eyes on the greasy sandwich, unsure how my next words will change things. "It kind of makes me wonder how the real you can fit into my life after all of this is over when we're on two drastically different paths."
He only shrugs, which sends a pang of disappointment through me. "Technically, we were never meant to cross paths the way we have," he answers. "Pretty soon, you'll be back to your regular life as if I never existed." He looks over at me. "It'll all seem as if it was just a bad dream when things are back to normal. You'll go back to your social media stuff and finish your degree, and I'll be on to my next assignment."
Though I nod, his words don't make me feel better. It only upsets me a little. How in the world does he think I'll be able to easily forget him? It's almost like a slap in the face to have him insinuate that he'll quickly forget about me when he moves on to his next job. It's as if him taking my virginity doesn't matter. It's as if the time we've spent together and the connection we have means nothing. I shouldn't be surprised about his approach since he made it clear last night that all of this was a job to him, but if I'm being honest, it hurts to have him refer to me and what we've been doing together as just being a part of the job.
I swallow my discomfort and try to focus on something. "So when will I be able to go back home?" I ask to change the subject. I can't help but think of the grisly crime scene we'd left at my house the night before. I wonder if the spilled blood will leave a permanent stain on the marble floor or if the bodies are still where they'd been left.