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)
His eyes are glassed over already, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“Austin…”
His cock is as stiff as a cock can be and he watches, mesmerized, as I lean forward to lick up his shaft.
19
gio
This is how I die…
With my dick in her mouth.
Without two brain cells to rub together.
Every nerve in my body is firing at once, a constant, overwhelming pulse of sensation that makes it impossible to do anything but feel.
And God, do I feel.
My head tilts back against the couch, my hands gripping the edge of the cushion as a loud groan slips out of me.
Guttural.
Austin sucks harder, taking me deeper.
I hear her choke and my cock rushes with more blood.
I have the urge to take her hair in my hands and pull, but I resist, keeping them at my side.
My hips want to thrust.
I resist that urge, too.
Fuck…
Oh fuck….
I want to marry this girl tomorrow.
How is she so good at this?
My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the music, the creak of the couch, even my own labored breaths as she sucks my dick.
Austin's hands skim up my thighs, her touch deliberately close to my balls, and my vision blurs for a second.
“Baby,” I rasp. “If you keep this up…”
I don’t even finish the sentence.
Her response is to grin about my cock as it fills her mouth.
The sight is so fucking hot—so fucking…
So…
The words are swallowed by another wave of sensation, my head tipping back as I fight to hold on to some semblance of control.
My thighs quake.
I try to still them, pelvis wanting to pump.
I moan again.
“Get on my lap.”
She shakes her head.
No.
“Please.” Let me fuck you…
She shakes her head again.
Jesus, please.
The wet heat, the pressure in my nutsack, the way she takes me deeper—it’s overwhelming, and I feel myself hurtling toward the edge, powerless to stop it.
“Let me fuck you,” I beg as my legs shake, every cell in my body about to rocket to the moon.
Arms behind my head.
I close my eyes.
Feel the cum shooting through my veins…
Austin sucks harder, fingers squeezing my balls.
I come.
Moan as I dump my load in her mouth…
…peel my eyes open to watch her swallow it.
She looks so fucking satisfied with herself as she moves away, leaning back on her haunches—my mind is a chaotic mess but one thing cuts through the haze with startling clarity: she’s perfect.
And I think I’m in love.
20
austin
The one thing I cannot do is concentrate.
On anything.
Work?
Forget about it. What are students? What is a lecture? What’s a syllabus?
Mid-term?
Pfft.
I’m supposed to be finalizing grades, putting together review materials, but my brain is somewhere else entirely. Correction: my brain is somewhere else entirely because of Gio.
The man has taken up permanent residence in my head, living rent-free, making a mess of my carefully organized thoughts.
And the worst part? I don’t care!
I like it.
Love it.
Want some more of it…
I stare absentmindedly out my office window at the quad, where students lounge in the grassy knoll, some of them studying but most of them on their phones.
I tap a pen.
Fiddle with a fidget ball.
My laptop screen mocks me, a half-finished email to a faculty advisor sitting there, waiting for me to remember how to function like a professional! I AM A PROFESSIONAL, DAMMIT!
My phone buzzes on the desk beside me, and I glance at it, my heart doing a ridiculous little flip when I see Gio’s name on the screen. It’s a text. Simple, straightforward, and entirely him.
Gio: Miss me?
Of course I miss him.
He knows it, too.
And the fact that he’s texting me in the middle of the day just to see how my day is? Yeah, that’s not helping my ability to be productive and get shit done.
Me: Not at all. WHO are you again?
His reply comes almost immediately.
Gio: I see how it is. Guess I’ll have to take my lap dances elsewhere.
Me: We all know where those lap dances lead…
His response is a little slower this time, and I wonder if maybe he’s finally run out of ways to torment me.
Gio: Stop it. We’re both at work and I can’t afford a boner rn. How would I explain this to the trainer?
I snort, covering my mouth to stifle the laugh that bursts out, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to think of something clever to fire back.
Me: Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem. Maybe don’t text me next time you’re supposed to be working.
His reply comes faster this time, almost as if he’s been waiting for me to call him out.
Or in a rush.
Gio: Bold of you to assume I can go a whole day without talking to you. Spoiler Alert: I CAN’T.
Awww.
That’s literally the sweetest thing he’s ever said to me.
Not really, but still—it’s amazing dating a man who doesn’t leave me guessing. No woman wants to play games—or insecurely navigate their relationship.