Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
This is crazy, my head tells me while my body arches into him, his hips thrusting forward. I want to push him away from me. My fingers squeeze his shoulder to do just that, but instead, one hand moves to the back of his head. Sliding it into his hair, I fist it in my hand, ready to pull his head away from me. But the more he kisses me, the more I forget even my own name.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he lets go of my lips for a second before his tongue again invades me. His hands move down to my legs as he bunches the skirt into his fists. My hands are frantic to touch him now. The urge is more powerful than the need to walk away from him. One touch from him is all it’s ever taken. The two of us are in sync as my body aches for his touch, so much I might cry. It’s this overwhelmingness that I can’t explain.
My hands go to the hem of his T-shirt as I pull it off, and he lets go of my mouth long enough to rip it over his head. My hand touches his chest, trailing down, feeling his heartbeat mimicking mine. His hands move to my own shirt as he rips it off and tosses it to the side. His mouth goes to my neck as I close my eyes and feel his heat invading me. His hands cup my tits as he rolls one nipple before pushing down the cup to the other one, and his mouth doesn’t go to kiss it. No, he attacks my nipple, first biting down on it, making it shoot straight to my core. I moan before he sucks it into his mouth. My hands go to the button of his jeans; at the same time, his hands move from my outer leg to my inner thigh, moving up until his fingertips touch the lace of my panties. The touch sends shock waves through me. “Shit,” he swears, and he makes sure my eyes are looking into his when he slides the fabric to the side and slips two fingers into me. “Wet.”
My eyes instead go to my hands at his button, getting it open and then sliding down the zipper. I’m about to push his pants down and free his cock when he slides out of my reach and down. His hands pull me so my ass is on the edge so I have to put my own hands by my sides. The coolness of the stainless-steel top should make me stop whatever it is that is about to happen, but I’m mesmerized by his tongue sliding out of his mouth and licking me. I have to close my eyes; it feels like I’m about to fly off the table. His mouth devours my pussy, sucking in my clit at the same time that two fingers slide into me. I lift my hips off the counter, wanting to fuck his fingers. “Oh my God,” I can’t help but cry out when he bites down on my clit and doesn’t let it go. Instead, he rubs his teeth together and savagely finger-fucks me. “Yes,” I hiss, moving one of my hands to his hair and pulling it in my fist, hoping he feels the pain also. His fingers slide in and out of me as he manipulates my clit. I need more, and he knows it. If anyone knows my body, it’s Brock. He has played with it like he’s the conductor and I’m the instrument.
“No.” He pulls his fingers from me. “You come on my cock.” He licks his fingers, and I’m about to cry, but he moves one of my legs so my foot is on the top, leaving me open for him. He pushes his pants over his hips, his cock springing free, making my mouth water. My hand comes out to rub the precum into the tip of him before palming his shaft. “Put me inside you,” he orders, and I do exactly what he tells me to do. I rub his cock head through my slit three times, dragging it out, hearing him growl before placing him exactly where he needs to be. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, and in one swift move, he’s inside me. My mouth opens in a gasp before his mouth finds mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth once before letting it go and then he looks down at us joined. His cock is buried to the root, filling me as if he was made for me. He puts his forehead on mine and I look up to see his eyes looking at me.
I quickly close my eyes, not wanting to watch him watch me. The feeling is too intimate. “The eyes are the key to the soul,” he used to tell me. Even if I can’t say no to this, he doesn’t get to look into my soul. He can have my body, but that is all I will give him. “Fuck,” he hisses, “open your fucking eyes.”