Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Gabriel,” she whispered, smoothing her hand up my chest.
How I’d longed for her touch. Even my name sounded better on her lips than from the mouth of any other. I pulled her closer to me, not ready to let go yet, enjoying the way she molded to me.
I pushed my knee between her legs and she gasped as if I’d lit her on fire.
“Gabriel,” she said again, more urgently this time.
I brushed her chin with my thumb and then kissed her again, my dick growing harder by the second. I felt like a kid, unable to shift my focus and keep myself under control. I’d wanted her for so long. Since she moved in a month ago. Since I first laid eyes on her over a year ago. It felt like forever. I’d never just looked at a woman and had an urgent need to touch before Autumn. It was as if she existed on a slightly different plain to anyone else, or she’d cast some kind of spell over me.
She wrapped her hand around my neck and twisted her hips slightly, which pushed her against my leg. She moaned, soft and throaty.
This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let this woman hump my thigh when I knew I could make her come much harder with my fingers, my tongue, my cock.
She pulled back from our kiss. “Oh God,” she said. “I’m dry humping your leg.” She laughed at herself, never afraid to be exactly who she was.
Didn’t she realize? Everything she did was utterly intoxicating. If only she hadn’t been wearing jeans. I wanted her wet pussy streaking the denim on my legs.
I stroked up her back. “Are you wet, Autumn?”
It was the first time I’d ever seen her shocked, but I was done holding back.
“Between your legs.” I dipped my hand between her thighs. “Underneath your jeans. Tell me.”
She nodded.
I wasn’t sure whether or not it was lust or relief that chased through me. Relief that she wanted me. That this was happening. Or perhaps the reprieve of my red, raw hands now I’d finally conceded the tug of war I’d been fighting so hard to win. Defeat had been inevitable. If I’d had any chance at victory, it had slipped from my fingers the first night she spent under my roof. I’d lain in bed with my dick in my hand, imagining how she’d feel under my fingers, between my teeth, and surrounding my cock.
“Show me.”
She held my gaze and without looking away, she undid her trousers and pulled them down over her bottom.
I tensed my jaw as she held her underwear away from her, giving me space to see her sweet pussy.
“I’m not sure that’s quite wet enough,” I said, pushing my fingers into her underwear and between her folds.
“Oh God,” she said, unsteady on her feet, grasping at my arms.
I leaned her back onto the table as I explored her. Christ, I couldn’t wait to taste her. Couldn’t wait to coat my cock in her soaked pussy.
With my free hand, I pushed off her underwear as I worked around her clit, stroking and pushing before delving into her with two fingers.
“Shit,” she cried out, and I put my mouth on hers to cover her sounds. I curled my fingers into her, pushing and pulling, circling and pressing, trying to take some of the heat out of my cock, trying to calm myself as much as satisfy her. “Gabriel. I’m. Stop. Gabriel. You’re going to make me come.”
I stilled. “You want me to stop?” I asked, smirking at her. I knew the answer, but I was going to make her say it.
She couldn’t catch her breath. “No. Well, yes. I’m going to come so quickly if you don’t.”
I pushed back into her, feeling her tense around me. “I know,” I whispered. “And you’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?” I asked, stroking her between her folds, around her clit, delving deep. “You’ve wanted me to feel you, to touch you like this, to make you come?”
“Yes, Gabriel.” Her confession brought her to the brink, and she began to shudder. I slid my free hand over her mouth to muffle her cries and I held her gently as she floated down, free of weeks of pent-up frustration.
Her cries had only ratcheted up my need and I pulled off my t-shirt, wiping my hand on it before discarding it and working on my jeans.
“Well, that should be illegal,” she said, hazy-eyed and pointing at my chest.
“What?” I glanced down.
“You know. All the muscles and stuff. I’ve never even seen you work out.”
“It’s all the manual labor,” I replied. She laughed but I wasn’t joking. The planing and polishing. The lifting and sanding. It was all the exercise anyone needed.
“This is my favorite outfit you have,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse like we were in a race to see who could undress first.