Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Fucking love that,” he murmured, making another of those internal shivers course through me.
I felt almost intolerably hot, yet goosebumpy at the same time.
I never could have known how into it I would be when a man spoke in intimate moments. The only guys I’d known in a carnal sort of way had been almost unnervingly silent. Maybe making a grunting noise at the end, but that was it.
Their silence, in turn, made me feel weird about making too much noise as well. I mean, not that I’d ever been, you know, anywhere close to any sort of release with them.
“You thinking about this inside of you?” he asked as he started to stroke himself faster, making my own fingers circle more quickly, wanting to keep pace, to come with him when he did.
“Yes.” I was too lost in the moment to feel my usual insecurity.
“Let me see, baby,” he murmured, making my belly flip-flop again.
And… no.
No, I couldn’t show him anything.
That was my rule.
But I found myself sliding the tablet up onto my chest, the camera aimed down to where my hand had disappeared into my panties.
A low, rumbling sound escaped him as soon as the camera focused on my bare legs, on the swatch of pink that was my panties, on my hand moving under them.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Slide your fingers into your pussy for me,” he demanded, making my sex clench hard even as my fingers slid to do just as he said. “Think of this sliding in inch by inch,” he said, stroking his cock slowly as I slipped my fingers into myself, a low moan escaping me. “Feels good, hm?” he asked, voice low and deep.
“Yes,” I whimpered, imagining the cock in his hand stretching me, settling deep.
“Move with me, baby,” he demanded as he started to stroke himself faster.
I didn’t need more encouragement than that.
My fingers started to thrust in pace with his strokes as my palm pressed against my cleft, engaging my clit as my hand moved.
I don’t think I’d ever been driven up as quickly before as I was right then, my soft sighs becoming desperate moans as I followed his lead.
“Come for me, baby,” he demanded, voice rough, close himself.
Just another minute or so, and I felt myself in a free fall for a moment before the pleasure slammed through my system, making me cry out.
“Fuck,” he groaned, stroking a few more times before he was coming on the tail end of my orgasm.
I came back slowly, my eyes closed as I tried to slow my breathing.
That was why I hadn’t noticed right away.
That he’d flipped to the front camera of his phone.
That it was his face on the screen.
When my lashes finally flickered open, though, I almost dropped my damn tablet.
Because it was him.
The biker from the meeting with PatronSinners.
The one who’d sat across from me.
I mean, sure, when I first saw the guy with the biker helmet pop up, there’d been this immediate belief that it was the same guy.
But I’d been talking myself out of that ever since then, reminding myself that a biker helmet was a good way to completely obscure yourself, so no one knew who you were. I was sure if I did a search, there’d be several of them on the site now.
But it was him.
The same chiseled jaw. The same green eyes. The same light hair.
Stupidly handsome.
It was kind of a crime he kept all that gorgeousness hidden under a full helmet.
The thing was, when I’d been telling myself that it was just a stranger, it was somehow… okay. To play around.
Knowing it was him, though, was different.
Because he’d been at that meeting.
He’d not only seen me, but he knew to correlate me to my profile.
He knew exactly who I was.
He had information I swore that no subscriber would get to know.
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit.
My hand was shaking as I stabbed my finger at the screen to end the video call.
Then, because that wasn’t enough, I closed the chat, then the entire damn window, making myself go offline.
“Oh, God,” I hissed as I climbed out of bed, going into the bathroom to run a cool shower, then scrubbing at myself like I could wipe away the whole thing.
But when I climbed out, goosebumpy and cold, I was even more frazzled than I’d been when I’d gone in.
Walking back into the living room, I found Frida looking expectantly at me, her internal clock telling her that we had one more quick walkie planned before bed.
“Your mother is a moron,” I told her as I slid on her leash, then walked with her toward the stairs, deciding that I clearly needed more activity in my life to try to offset my overactive libido.
If I was sore and exhausted from exercise, I wouldn’t have the energy to have freaking cyber sex with someone who wasn’t as anonymous as I’d been trying to convince myself.