Page 9 of The Good Girl

“No more alcohol for her. She doesn’t normally drink.”

I’m about to tell her I’m fine—totally fine—but suddenly I feel so sleepy. I close my eyes and decide to take an emergency nap first instead.

Chapter Two

Nevaeh

Warm lips skim the back of my neck, sending shivers through me as my dream guy wraps his rough hands around me. I sigh, his hard body feeling like a safe haven against mine.

When his hand slips under my top to cup my lace-covered breast, I let out a soft whimper, making him growl in response. His eager fingers tease my nipple, tugging it lightly as he grinds into me. I feel achy and needy, knowing that if this dream ends now, I’ll be left needing to find relief with my own fingers.

But instead of fading away, he removes his hand from under my top and slides it down my body, slipping his fingers under my skirt and between my legs, pressing them against the damp lace covering my pussy. His deep rumble of approval washes over me, making my nipples hard and my pussy throb with anticipation.

I might not know what to expect, but I know what I want. I’ve been dreaming of this ever since I started reading dirty books and touching myself under my cover in the dark of my bedroom.I’d swallow my whimpers and moans, scared of being caught, knowing I’d be branded a harlot—or worse—by my father.

My dream man doesn’t give a crap about rules and respectability. He’s a sinner, ready to show me heaven by dragging me through hell. When he tugs the lace of my underwear aside, I part my legs a little, inviting him to take what he wants. As he slips a finger inside me, I gasp, the sensation familiar yet foreign and so real that a whisper of doubt begins to swirl in my mind. But then he strokes a place inside that makes me forget everything but the pleasure that builds within me, and I feel myself pushing back into him, his fingers gliding in and out of me with ease. Oh God, this is the best dream ever. I’m so close...

Then the fingers disappear, and I sigh, disappointed. Of course. The dream always ends right before I reach the good part. Why would this time be any different? I think as I feel movement behind me. As the last traces of sleep fade, part of my mind clings to the dream, reluctant to let go and face reality even as awareness sets in.

My skirt is suddenly lifted over my butt, and before I can figure out what’s happening, my underwear is torn from my body, and my eyes snap open.

Clarity slams into me at the same time a huge cock does, stealing my breath and silencing my scream as all the oxygen is forced from my lungs. I whimper as pain throbs deep inside me, my body unaccustomed to anything so big.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight,” a voice grits out from behind me. A large, rough hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my ability to speak as he fucks me with sharp, brutal thrusts.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should be terrified. There’s a man inside me, a stranger, stealing my virginity like it’s his to claim and not giving a single fuck that he doesn’t have permission to take it.

But despite everything, I’m not. How messed up does that make me? Not only am I not scared, I can feel my orgasm tearing toward me at a blinding speed.

“So good. So fucking good,” the voice groans as he thrusts into me again and again until he curses and I feel him erupt inside me.

I cry out as I spiral right over the edge with him.

He keeps moving, slower now, gentler, helping me ride through the waves of pleasure. His hand drifts from my throat to my hip before he presses a kiss to the back of my neck and eases out of me.

My heart beats wildly out of control as I feel his cum leaking out and panic sets in. What the holy hell was I thinking? I might have been half asleep for part of it, but why didn’t I fight once I was awake? Why didn’t I at least beg him to wear a condom?

My head pounds and my stomach churns, reminding me of the alcohol I drank. It probably contributed to this. Everyone makes stupid decisions when they’re drunk, right? Still, this was one hell of a mistake. This is why I don't drink. I take a deep breath. I'm never drinking again. I need to make an appointment to get tested and?—

I’m pulled back and tucked against his hard body again, like the little spoon to his big one, and my eyes bug out of my head. I’ve never had sex before, let alone a one-night stand, but isn’t this the part where he leaves—or I get kicked out, since I’m just now realizing I’m not in my own bed?

Afraid to open my mouth and ask in case he takes that as an invitation for round two, I stay quiet and will myself to relax until he falls asleep so I can sneak out.

“You smell like vanilla fucking cupcakes,” he grumbles, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply.

His voice does something funny to my insides, making my stomach clench. Wait, am I attracted to him? No, that can’t betrue. How is that freaking possible? For all I know, he looks like Sasquatch. But then I remember the way he felt inside me and how he’s wrapped around me almost protectively. With that and the gravel effect his voice has on me, two things become glaringly obvious. First, I need to get the heck out of here. And second, somewhere between my first drink and losing my virginity, I went and lost my damn mind.

It takes forever to slip out of the biker’s arms. Inch by inch, I make it to the edge of the bed before easing myself off. I stand for a moment, afraid to move or even breathe in case I wake him. When only his deep breathing fills the room, I blow out a relieved breath.

Looking down, I find what’s left of my panties on the floor and snatch them up, feeling my face flame. My heart pounds as I glance around, hoping not to wake him. I spot my phone on the bedside table next to a note. I grab both, my hand trembling as I quickly read the piece of paper.

Hey Pippin, you had too much to drink, so G carried you up here,and we put you to bed. This is one of the spare rooms, so there’s no need to worry. There are some pills, water, and your phone on the table.

Text me when you’re awake.

Love you,

Amity

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