Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I strip his other sock away, glowing now, not so nervous anymore. I let them drop to the floor, but then what? Now I take his jeans off? Straddle him? Ugh, you’d think that in all the years I’ve had fantasies and lucid dreams about this, I’d be a little more prepared and not so cripplingly nervous.
My clothes. It feels safer to take off my clothes, so I stand there in a beam of sunlight at the foot of the bed and slide the straps of my sundress off my shoulders. Staring at me, Van makes an anguished sound. Too loud. “Shh,” I whisper again, casting my eyes to the door. My parents are probably sleeping the sleep of the chicken wing and beer dead, but if they wake up and knock on the door, I will die of both humiliation and sexual tension.
I keep working the dress off, letting it fall to my waist. “Christ.” Van sounds like he’s dying now. The dress falls to the floor. His eyes never tear away from me. They’re glowing even brighter now, and he has this look of awe on his face that fills me up to overflowing. It makes me confident enough to reach behind me and unclasp my bra. My boobs are not the stellar kind. They’re an A-cup at best, but the way Van looks at me with hunger in his eyes, his lips parted like he wants to make another sound, a louder sound, a sound that’s going to be begging me because he needs this as badly as I do, makes me hot and wet. His eyes are a caress that I feel all over my skin. Gentle. Warm. Scalding. Wicked.
His gaze rakes down, and when he fixes on a spot below my waist, he jerks on the bed. “Christ, Remi.”
I follow where his eyes are staring, and I can see the wet spot on my gray cotton panties. They’re the boy shorts kind. Not sexy. But thoroughly soaked. When I mean wet spot, it’s more like a lake. I slowly pull them down my hips, shimmying them off.
Van is way too loud. “I’m going to die,” he groans loudly. “You’re killing me.”
“Okay, that’s it,” I huff. “That was your last warning.” I’m not mad. I’ve suddenly got a burst of inspiration that if I don’t act on, I’m going to rethink it, rethink all this, chicken out, and be mad at myself forever.
I grab my panties off the floor, wad them into a ball, walk around the bed, and stuff them into his mouth. Gently. If he didn’t want me to, he could have fought me off easily or protested. He could still just reach over and pull them out. Instead, his eyes get heavy, and he groans around the fabric.
I hop up onto the bed and straddle him, totally naked. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m getting the courage for this. I just know that if I don’t have him inside me soon, filling this ache, then I’m the one who’s going to be slain.
I pay attention to his jeans, undoing the button and sliding open the zipper so quietly that it doesn’t make a sound. Going slow. I can make out his rigid bulge below, even before I slide his jeans down. He helps me, lifting his hips so I can strip them off. When I reach into his boxers, his nostrils flare, his eyes squeeze shut, and he makes the sexiest noise around my panties.
“Oh my god.” I jam my hands over my mouth, holding in my laugh. Who was the woman who just did this to him? Who put her panties in his mouth? Surely that wasn’t me? “I’m so sorry, Van. I’ll take them out. This is way too kinky.” I lean forward and brush a kiss over his forehead. I reach for my underwear, but he shakes his head furiously. “You’re okay?” He nods even more furiously. “Okay.”
I turn my attention back to his boxers. I’m stripped bare, and he’s still in his dress shirt and underwear, which I like. It’s hot. It’s even hotter when I peel his boxers down and take his rod out. His cock throbs in my hand, huge and long and so freaking hard. He’s glistening at the tip, so wet that it produces an instant and immediate matching response from me. I can feel beads of moisture slipping down my thighs. I pump my hand down his length just to feel the hot velvet skin over the hardness beneath. I trace the veins with my fingertips, memorizing every perfect detail.
Van makes a muffled noise, and his body responds, his abs curling up, hips jerking into my touch. He inhales and exhales hard as I grip him even harder, sliding my hand up and down again and again. I want to take him in my mouth, and when I bend to do it, he cups my face in both hands and shakes his head, eyes wide.