Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Weland opens her legs for me, and she’s totally naked. It’s pitch black in here except for a few small glints of light coming in through the blinds, but it’s enough to outline her in a faint glow. Perfection. She’s an angel crash-landed from the heavens, and here I am, overthinking things.
It doesn’t take much for me to turn my brain off, at least right now. That’s actually a talent I haven’t been able to master—turning things off when I want to. My brain is usually always going, going, going. But not right now. Right now, there’s just Weland in front of me, glistening wet and ready. She smells absolutely divine. I know it’s incredibly cheesy to say that my mouth waters in anticipation of tasting her, but that’s exactly what happens. I’m kneeling on the bed, which keeps my cock from drilling a hole through both my jeans and the mattress. I don’t need to take Weland’s bed out too. Sacrificing my pants is more than enough.
I inch closer, pressing a kiss to the crease of her silky thighs. Her legs tremble and open just a little bit wider, and I inhale the wondrous scent that is all her.
I don’t know why I freeze up, but I just do. Maybe because I’m having a hard time believing this is happening, and it’s happening to me. It’s a good thing, and good things in my life are generally very short-lived. I don’t want this to go the same way. I want this to last. Oh, look, my brain just turned itself back on again, and it’s whirring so darn fast that the rest of me can’t keep up, which is probably why I feel paralyzed here.
There’s a momentary pause, but Weland doesn’t get offended that I’ve stopped. She doesn’t ask me what’s wrong with her pussy or if there’s an issue with my tongue being broken.
Instead, she inhales.
And then she sings.
She sings, and it’s sweeter than angels, sweeter than tacos or the deliciously guilty late night deep fried chicken run I treat myself to every once in a…well, not often enough. She’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard. I’m sure it’s her song she’s treating me to, one that she wrote. It takes me right back to the first time I ever heard her sing. Right back to that video on the internet that had me so amazed, I would have asked her to marry me right then and there even if I didn’t need a wife.
I’m kidding. I think.
As I wait for her to finish, I stroke my hands up and down her thighs. It might be the weirdest thing anyone else has ever done, and seriously, I really hope my cousins don’t have night vision goggles and a wiretap going on, but I think the beefy security dude Smitty hired will take care of that right quick and clear them out if they did.
Soon, Weland finishes, her voice tapering off. Silence filters through the room for just the briefest heartbeat before I lean in and press a kiss straight to her clit.
Her hips instantly follow my mouth up and then press back down when I kiss her again. I follow it up with a lick, and her hips go wild. Her belly trembles, and she thrashes her head on the pillow, moaning. “Don’t stop. For the love of cheesy meatballs, don’t stop.”
I want to obey, so I don’t. I kiss her, lick her, and tease her with my fingers. She loves it. She lets me know exactly where she’s most sensitive, where she wants my tongue, and where she wants pressure or not so much pressure, more teasing or less. She doesn’t have to tell me with words because her body does it all for me. She’s soaking wet, her hips riding my touch. She’s so sensitive that it blows my mind. I don’t want her to come yet because I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to stop giving her pleasure. I don’t want to stop discovering what she likes and giving it to her exactly the way she wants it.
I’ve been missing out on this for a lifetime.
I’ve been missing out on this for the past four years, and I didn’t even realize it.
I lick over her folds, teasing her entrance with my tongue. She gasps when I plunge it inside, and I probably gasp too. Because she’s delicious. I know I shouldn’t, but I go back up and tease her clit into my mouth, suckling at it while she pants and arches off the bed, her hips bucking a little more frantically and wildly. I bring two fingers to her entrance and tease her there. I won’t plunge them in. I don’t want to take her all the way yet.
She lets go of my hair and grasps the sheets, curling claw-like fingers into them.