We were the lucky few that got a chance to start over. A fake family, a new home and a pretty little life built on lies. But while our lives continued to intertwine, we were put on very different paths. Now it was only a matter of time before they collide and the beast behind the beauty is exposed.
Excerpt from Pretty Little Things
Pretty Little Things Excerpt Two (Shower Scene)
I turned on the radio and sang along to “Outside” by Staind as I shoved down my boxer briefs, kicking them off on the floor. I made my way into my bathroom, turning on the light above the sink but leaving the one in the shower stall off to spare myself the harsh light. The water didn’t take long to heat up, and I slid under the spray, closing the fogged glass door behind me.
I dumped liquid body wash in the palm of my hand and rubbed the soap over my chest and down my stomach as I begged for the adrenaline of my nightmares to subside. My hand dipped lower, knowing there was only one way to make those memories fade, and I wasn’t proud of that fact. I gripped my dick, squeezing hard as my hand slid slowly up and down my length. I rested my forehead against the damp sandstone tile and closed my eyes, hoping I could find some sort of release.
The song ended, and waiting for the next to start was quickly killing my mood. Nine Inch Nails faded in through the speakers that were embedded above the shower stall, and I began to stroke myself faster as I pictured small, perky tits with light-pink pebbled nipples. I licked my lips as I focused on the faceless vision, my eyes traveling down a tight stomach while my fingers slipped over my head and back against the base of my cock. I panted, water droplets falling from my lips as I imagined it was swollen pink lips wrapped around me, sucking as my fist gripped her hair, tiny moans in the back of her throat vibrating and nearly sending me over the edge as I pushed her closer, touching the back of her throat with my dick.
“Ah…” I groaned over the music. I imagined her moaning my name, begging for me to come in her pretty little mouth.
“Colin?” Annie’s voice came from inside my room.
“Fuck,” I growled, but I was too close to be able to stop myself as my stomach muscles tightened.
“Colin?” she called again as she got closer, and it sent me over the edge.
“Fuck, Annie,” I panted as I came, struggling to catch my breath as I stared at her emerald eyes through the fogged glass door. She didn’t move for a moment, her lips parted in complete shock and breathing as erratically as me.
“Your shirt,” she whispered as it fell from her fingertips, pooling at her feet, and her eyes locked on mine.
“Leave,” I barked. My words jarred her, and she ran from my room.
About the Author
(This bio is not to be taken seriously under any circumstance.)
Teresa Mummert is an army wife and mother whose passion in life is writing. She is the author of the New York Times and USA Todaybestselling novels White Trash Beautiful and Suicide Note. Born in Pennsylvania, she lived a small town life before following her husband’s military career to Louisiana and Georgia. Check out her website for samples and updates! TeresaMummert.com“