Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
“Harder,” I say, needing to get back to my numb place, a place that’s just sex and domination, no love, no hurt. No feelings, just my body being taken by someone who doesn’t make me want to puke.
Mercifully, Jonathan obliges.
Once he recovers from the surprise of how tight I am, he gets rough with me again, slapping my ass, fucking me harder, grabbing at my tits like he’s trying to leave bruises on my body. When he slams his cock inside me, my pussy contracts around him, taking every bit of the abuse and begging for more.
The building pleasure scares me because it’s not what I wanted. I didn’t come to Jonathan for pleasure, I came to be used. I don’t want him to make me come, I want him to use me to make himself come.
His brutality makes it nearly impossible to hold back, though. I’m losing the battle against ecstasy, my legs shaking as he drives his cock deep into my pussy and I feel him in my guts.
So I’m relieved as hell when he finally blows his load and I’ve felt all the tension of building release, but none of the relief.
My heart pounds in my chest as I lay with my ass still up, my face smashed against mattress, my well-used pussy leaking juices all over his bed. Jonathan smooths a hand over my ass, a wordless gesture of appreciation for the pleasure I gave him.
When he pulls out of my pussy and collapses on the bed beside me, he grabs me and yanks me half on top of him.
I don’t want to cuddle with him, so I pull away, roll over, and curl up on my side.
I feel him looking over at me, but he doesn’t accept my wordless request not to be touched.
He rolls over, locks an arm around my waist, and hauls me back against him.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he tells me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper.
I don’t want to be held, either, but when I try to move out of his embrace again, he doesn’t let me. It makes me angry—so angry I claw at his arms trying to pull them off me so I can be left alone, but my scratches don’t faze him.
“Let me go!”
His grip only tightens. “No.”
He’s squeezing me too hard, but the more I fight him, the harder he holds me.
Finally, he grows tired of the struggle. He rolls me onto my stomach and moves his whole body on top of mine, pinning me down.
“Stop fucking moving.”
My body listens to his command like it did when he was fucking me.
I wait for him to roll off me so I can fight him again, but he remains on top of me, holding my hands down against the mattress.
The pressure of his body on top of mine feels oddly comforting, and after a moment passes and I stop fighting it, I realize I don’t want him to move. I like being crushed under his weight. He’s not holding me, but he’s making me feel calm. It’s like being forcefully hugged, but I wouldn’t let him hug me right now if he tried.
He lies on top of me until he feels my body completely relax. My eyes grow heavier and my brain slows to a crawl.
I’m comfortable here, pressed into his blue striped sheets. They’re not the sheets I want my naked body to be pressed against, and he’s not the Granville I want on top of me, but tonight, he’s the one I needed.
When he finally moves off me, I’m too tranquil to put up a fight.
He moves back to his side of the bed and curls up beside me, resting an arm around my waist.
I’m too comfy to move, so I let him.
“Goodnight, Kennedy,” he murmurs.
It’s rude not to say it back when I’m still awake, but I don’t want to. My peace feels so fragile, something as small as saying goodnight to him could shatter it.
He doesn’t seem to care.
I couldn’t balance the weight of any expectations on me tonight and still manage to keep myself from sinking, so I’m glad he doesn’t care.
My heart still feels heavy in my chest, but I ignore it.
Peace was too hard to come by tonight. I can’t let anything take it away now that I’ve found it.
I close my eyes and clear my mind.
I let the strong arm wrapped around my waist be the right one, and finally, I drift off to sleep.
Chapter twenty-one
Kennedy
It’s raining again.
I’m honest enough with myself to admit that’s not why I’m still in bed this time.
The moment my eyes opened and I had to think about emerging from Jonathan Granville’s bedroom, I felt too sick to move.
The rain pelts the window and I wish it was pelting my bare skin, washing away every touch my body has ever felt so I could start over fresh.