Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I felt a scream building, and I muffled it in my throat, but I wanted to yell out.
My mouth was open as he kept moving, in and out, deeper and deeper. The rhythm was steady, the waves were riding over me, and he began going faster.
“Shay,” I whimpered, needing something I couldn’t articulate.
His lips found mine, and he paused, grinding into me. Good God, that felt good. He raised himself, pulling out, only to slide back in once more. He went as deep as he had gone with his fingers, and I could feel him coming close. My body was beginning to twitch. The pressure was building, but he pulled out and turned me over. He bent over my back, sliding back inside, and I moved my head. Our lips caught and held.
He began pounding into me.
I gasped, arching my chest out.
Shay leaned up, his hands finding my hips, and he went harder and harder.
I hurtled over the edge, falling down onto the bed. I caught myself, as his hand skimmed my back. He kissed me tenderly, and then he finished.
We stayed in place. I was bent over. He was holding himself upright, his hand resting on my ass, and then he bent over me. His lips grazed my shoulder, and he pulled out, falling to the bed beside me.
I was panting for breath.
He was, too, and he curled an arm around my waist, spooning me from the back. He fit alongside me, molding his body to mine as his arms wrapped tightly around me. I lie there, riding out the tremors of my climax as he peppered my bare shoulder with slow, lazy kisses.
After a moment, once our breathing had returned to normal, he slipped his leg between mine and buried his head into my shoulder.
“So.” He kissed my neck softly. “We did that.”
I laughed, patting his hand tucked under my breast. “Is that what we did?”
He chuckled into me, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of him. “Something like that.” He rested on his back, loosening his hold on me, and I turned over so I was lying on my side, facing him. I rested a hand on his chest, and his eyes watched mine until his hand found my own.
I murmured, “I don’t regret that.”
He hooked his finger around mine. “Really?”
I nodded. I couldn’t, not anymore. Not after we made out in my closet, then my bed, and after I was practically begging him for it at the bar.
I croaked, “I touched your bulge.”
He started laughing, curving more into me. “You did.”
“It was the most momentous and memorable part of the night.”
I was grinning.
He lifted his head. “Really?”
He wasn’t.
I nodded. “For sure. I became the definition of a wanton hussy.”
He started laughing again.
I kept going, “I can imagine all the stories that start with, ‘The day she touched my bulge’, or ‘The day I touched his bulge,’ ‘The moment my hand felt his jeans, and his dick swelled underneath’, or even . . .” I was laughing now, “‘I laid my hands on him, right over his jeans, and he rose up. He answered my call. I called out, Come forth, hard penis, and answer milady’s beckoning. My hips call upon your touch. You must heed and give forth plentiful of your pleasure.’”
He continued laughing, wrapping his arms around me, and somehow he had curled his entire body around mine again. I was lying on my back once more, and he stopped, lifting his head from my neck. He gazed down at me, shifting to rise up on his elbow. He caught some hairs and tucked them behind my ear, letting his hand linger there, holding me gently.
He grew serious. “I want to keep doing this.”
I rested my hand over his on my face. “Fucking me from behind?”
He grinned and then sobered. “No. This, whatever it is. We don’t need to put words to it, if you don’t want to.”
I groaned. “Please, don’t. I tend to get bitchy when words are applied to situations.” I sobered a bit and let the joking slide. “I won’t date you.”
His eyes sharpened.
I added, “But I’m okay with this.” Good gracious, my body was already going through withdrawals. A renewed need was rising, but I pushed it off. “Maybe we can talk about it, as in we’re making plans to do more of this, but no real talking otherwise.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You’re like a guy’s wet dream. Do you realize that?”
I smiled, shrugging. “I like to think I’m my own wet dream.”
He groaned, his lips finding mine again. He pulled back a moment later. “Are you sure about this?”
Moment of truth? I said, “No.” His eyes held mine, and I clarified, “But I don’t care right now.” I grabbed his head, found his lips with mine, and it wasn’t long before we were both groaning again.