Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I…you’re welcome.”
“Seriously.” Her sigh is blissful. “I want to suck your dick so bad right now.”
My gulp is audible, my hands tightening on the edge of the seat.
“We both want the same things.”
Her laughter is louder this time, ringing out and echoing off the cold metal walls of the building. It’s an unrestrained laugh, full of mischief, and does absolutely nothing to help me regain my composure.
My dick, her mouth.
Lots of suction…
“Truly. I want what you want.” I cannot stress this enough.
Her grin widens, and she bites her bottom lip, a move that is both innocent and suggestive, I’m seconds away from unzipping my slacks and letting her go at it.
“I can’t believe I said that out loud.” Her focus is back to the ice in front of her, pretty head shaking back and forth, scolding herself. “But for real. This is hot.”
My eyes dart around the area, searching for evidence of any interlopers, specifically, George.
I want to suck your dick so bad right now, I want to suck your dick so bad right now, I want to suck your dick so bad right now…
I can’t take it anymore.
I move from my seat, sliding over to her side. Before she can ask what I’m doing, my hands are on her waist, lifting her effortlessly. She lets out a startled laugh, her hands briefly gripping the steering wheel for balance.
“What are you—”
She doesn’t finish because I’ve already settled her in my lap, her back pressed against my chest. My hands instinctively find her hips, holding her steady as I press a kiss to the back of her neck, just below her hairline.
A gasp escapes from her lips. “Are you trying to distract me?” she asks in a whisper, her voice wavering as I trail my kisses lower. Austin's head tips back, resting against my shoulder, and for a moment, I forget where we are or that we’re on borrowed time.
My hands slide upward, gliding from her waist to her rib cage, my thumbs grazing the sides of her curves. Her breathing quickens, and she shifts in my lap, hips pressing back against me in a way that makes it nearly impossible to think straight.
Slowly, she begins grinding her ass into my cock, round and round, slowly.
My head lolls back and I moan, gripping her tighter, blood flow leaving my brain and skyrocketing straight to my dick as my teeth graze her skin—not enough to hurt—but enough to make her gasp and arch against me.
“I’m going to crash this thing,” she moans as my big palms slide further up, cupping her tits through the thin fabric of her dress.
They’re soft, full, and fit perfectly in my hands, just like I knew they would.
I squeeze gently, earning another gasp from her as she tilts her head to the side, giving me more access. Wanton now, her skin is warm beneath my lips as I nuzzle into her, my nose inhaling the faint scent of her perfume.
It’s an intoxicating mix of sweet and spice, and I can’t get enough.
My thumbs brush against her nipples through the sheer fabric, and her sharp intake of breath sends a shiver down my spine as my fingers move across her collarbone, dipping below her neckline. Like a heat seeking missile, desperate to touch her bare breasts…
I would fuck her now if we were alone.
She needs to stop grinding on me before we both tear our clothes off and get caught by Geo—
“Hey!” a loud voice booms. “Knock that shit off!”
The roaring demand snaps us out of our stupor, and Austin jumps out of my lap, her hands flying to the steering wheel as if to make it seem like nothing inappropriate was happening. My arms drop back to my sides, though I can’t wipe the sheepish grin off my face.
George stands at the edge of the rink, hands on his hips, his glare cutting through the distance.
“I said twenty minutes—I didn’t say ‘turn this ride into soft porn!,’” he hollers, his voice echoing off the empty seats around us. “Get down from there, we have cameras everywhere you fucking moron.”
He’s grumbling as he ambles forward, determined.
“Oh shit. He looks pissed,” I muse, cutting the Zamboni’s engine and standing. “Party’s over.”
Though my hard-on isn’t.
One at a time, we climb down off the machine and George averts his eyes as Austin adjusts her dress; tugging the neckline, pulling down the hem so it covers her thighs.
George grumbles under his breath as he trudges toward us, keys jangling against his hip, each step punctuated by an overdramatic huff.
“I should’ve known better,” he gripes, stopping just short of the Zamboni. “Young people can’t keep your hormones in check for even five minutes. The ice is sacred! You wanna paw each other like that, rent a goddamn motel room.”
Honestly I’m flattered he considers me young people.