AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah, at seven. Maybe I’ll take a nap before then. I’m sorry to bail like this, Pammie, but I need to get some rest. We’ll talk next time okay? Bye,” I say before stumbling out of the cafe and making my way down the street. I swear, I hear my sister giggling behind me but chalk it up to my imagination because the streets of New York are loud and can be confusing sometimes. Still, the sleepiness seems unwarranted. It’s true that I’ve been burning both ends of the candle lately, but still, is that reason for the sidewalk to come swimming up at me? Fortunately, I make it to my dorm room before collapsing, and then sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER10
Brad
This is weird. Paisley’s usually on time, but she hasn’t arrived yet despite the fact that it’s already fifteen past. Well, maybe she got caught up studying, or maybe the trains are running late again. I’ve begged my sweet girl to Uber more, and offered to pay for it too, but she always demurs. She says she doesn’t want to waste my money, although I say that her safety comes first.
But then, the doorbell rings and I stroll to open it.
“Hi,” Paisley says with a breathless smile on my doorstep. Then, she steps in close and wraps her arms around my shoulders before giving me an open-mouthed kiss. It’s hot, but I’m surprised.
“Hey hon,” I growl when we finally come up for air. “That was unexpected. What was that for?”
She giggles while stepping inside, flipping a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Oh, you know. I just missed you, that’s all,” she titters while looking around. “Did you re-do the décor in here?”
“No, it’s all the same,” I say while shutting the door. Then I turn to her and size her up. “Something about you looks different,” I murmur, unable to pinpoint exactly what it is. “Is it your hair?” Goddamn, I’m always so bad at women’s things. Or maybe it’s her clothes? I’m not sure.
But Paisley merely giggles before doing a three-sixty before me.
“No, it’s not that,” she purrs. “I went to the dermatologist and got a special blood facial today, so I probably look really rejuvenated. It’s a vampire’s secret,” she says, winking at me.
I stare at her.
“First, I don’t even want to know what a blood facial is, and second, I didn’t know you were into facials at all. I thought you weren’t into beauty treatments?”
Paisley merely winks again before sashaying down the hallway to the kitchen.
“I didn’t say Iwasn’tinto it,” she clarifies over her shoulder. “I just want to take better care of myself going forward. You know my hair was always so ratty before, and I wore those ugly clothes. But you’ve helped me a lot in that department, Brad,” she coos while leaning against the counter. “See? Isn’t this mini-skirt sexy?”
It is, because Paisley’s got on a red outfit that leaves little to the imagination. And what she’s saying is true too. Ever since we started dating, my girl has been ramping it up on the wardrobe-front. No longer does she wear jeans and t-shirts every day, although to be honest, I didn’t mind the innocent babysitter look at all. Instead, Paisley has begun to dress more feminine, with an assortment of pretty floral frocks and even crop tops and short skirts sometimes. I’m totally into it because anything that makes my woman more confident, I support.
But the red miniskirt she has on tonight is especially sexy. It’s a shiny latex material that looks glued to her body, and she’s paired it with a red corset top laced so tight that the tops of her breasts look like giant scoops of creamy ice cream perched on top. Not only that, but she’s got red fuck me stilettos on which make her legs look even longer and more toned than usual.
“Wow,” I marvel, taking in the sight from behind. “You do look sexy, honey. But did you walk here in those heels? Or take the subway? I can’t imagine the looks you were getting.”
“Oh silly!” Paisley giggles while wiggling her bum at me. “No, of course not! I ubered here because it’s not safe to take the subway these days with rising crime rates and all. I swear, I hate public transportation.”
Okay, this is fucking weird because my woman is a huge fan of the Metropolitan Transit Authority. I get that the subways can get skeezy and there are millions, if not billions, of rats in the tunnels, but Paisley has always been a staunch supporter of public transit. She says it’s the great equalizer, so it’s strange that she’s suddenly done a one-eighty.
I open my mouth to comment on this change, but suddenly, all the air rushes out of my lungs because Paisley’s done something sensuous and fucking dirty. The sassy blonde has edged her mini-skirt up until it bunches at her hips, revealing a tiny red thong cleaving those big white cheeks in two. The strap of lace is buried dirtily between her creamy moons and as I watch, she reaches in back of herself and pulls it out slowly while making deliciously filthy eye contact.
“Oooh, my g-string is wet, Daddy,” she purrs. “Would you like to see?”
Immediately, I’m in back of her, running my finger over that tiny strip of lace. The fabric is more than wet. It’s sopping already and Paisley moans, pressing her cheek against the kitchen counter as my finger gently trails over those swollen cunt lips.
“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby,” I rasp. “I had no idea you were going to walk in like a horny bitch in heat, but I like it.”
“You do, don’t you?” she coos in a fluttery voice. “Then why don’t you put it in and see how good I feel? I promise, it’s tight.”
Of course she’s tight because I’m the only man who’s ever been inside her. With a growl, I tear the thong right off her ass before kneeing her legs apart with my own. Then, my cock’s out and Paisley gasps when she catches a glimpse.
“Ohhhh,” she moans, lashes fluttering. “Oh shit.”
“You’ve taken my dick in all your holes already,” I rasp, running one big hand up and down the stiffness. “It shouldn’t be a surprise at this point.”
But Paisley merely moans and presses her face straight down into the cold tile. Okay, that’s a bit of a weird move, but then again, I’ve forced her into some contorted positions during our lovemaking in the past, so I shouldn’t talk. Still, her breasts look oddly round as they’re squashed against the marble countertop. It’s almost as if they’retoocircular, and they don’t smush the way normal breast tissue should. But that’s weird because I know for a fact that my woman has never had any plastic surgery. Hmm, is there something she’s not telling me?
