Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“That feel good?” I ask softly, head spinning with the rush of power. What would it feel like to finally feel a woman's touch after so many years? Knowing how much he must have thought about this moment and yearned for it spurs me to make it as good for him as I can.
There will be days, weeks, months, or years when this memory lives in his mind, and I want it to be colored with all the best sensations.
“So good.” He moans, the sound almost pained.
I urge him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then I take a pillow, placing it on the floor. When I stare up at Kinkaid, his eyes are intense blue flames, and his lips are parted at the sight of me on my knees. I rest my hands on his thighs, and the muscles jump. His fingers grip the edge of the bed, bunching the regulation covers with thick fingers that have been inside me. He’s strong and braced for something he seems nervous about giving into. His dick stands proud, bigger than any cock I’ve ever handled in my life. I swallow, nerves rushing through me like a spring stream.
I know how to suck average dick, but this isn’t average. The head is broad and flared, the shaft wider than the circumference of my grip. There’s no way I’m getting it all in my mouth, but I’ll give it my best. Now I’m on my knees, and he’s staring down at me with a dark expression, there’s no backing out.
When I shuffle closer, I catch his scent. He’s fresh and soapy, like he made extra sure to wash ready for me. I tentatively wrap my hand around his girth, smiling when it kicks against my palm.
“Easy,” I whisper, like I’m calming a skittish horse. He snorts, but it turns into a hiss when I lick the head of his cock with a teasing, featherlight stroke.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Suck my dick.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, and heat floods between my legs as I shift against the urge to be filled.
I’ve always thought of myself as a sexual person. When I’m at home, I get myself off at least once a day. I tend to pick the fuckboys who make big promises about how good they are in bed but are the most selfish. At least my finger knows the way to make me shake and moan.
Kinkaid isn’t selfish. He’s ladies first when it comes to food and fucking. A gentleman, if that’s a thing prison inmates can be.
I decide to go slow, wrapping my fingers around him and licking just underneath the ridge where he’s sensitive. Hissing again, one hand releases the blanket and rests heavily on the back of my head. Is he going to take control and force his cock down my throat? The prospect is equally arousing and terrifying. He pulls in a deep breath as I circle my tongue around and explore more with my hands. He likes it when I squeeze nice and firm, even more when I run my knuckles gently over his balls.
His thighs tense as he blows his breath through tight lips. The fingers on my neck flex, digging in with his faltering restraint. I pump, and he grunts, tipping his head back and clenching his eyes closed.
When I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and gently suck, my tongue is coated in salty-sweet arousal that I swallow down as he trembles.
“Hands behind your back,” he growls, making me jump. I comply, encircling my left wrist with my right hand and working to keep myself balanced. It’s hard, and I end up taking him deeper in my throat, which is probably what he wanted. His fingers grip my hair, pushing me harder until I gag.
“That’s a good girl. Make it nice and wet.”
Like my body is tethered by his demands, my mouth floods with saliva. It’s a strain to keep my jaw flexed this wide. My lips are stretched tight like I imagine my labia will be when he fucks me.
I feel empty between my legs, and my fantasies fill my mind as I imagine another man behind me, touching me, teasing me, filling me while I take Kinkaid deep into my throat. It’s the fantasy that gets me off the quickest. The fantasy I’ve never indulged in in real life.
I let my hand roam between my legs to tease my swollen clit.
His hips rise, jerking enough to make me gag, spiking tears to slip over my lower lids and coat my cheeks.
“Careful,” he says, bringing a calloused thumb to stroke one away. “The only tears I want to make you cry are tears of pleasure.”
I don’t stop, though, pushing through to hollow my cheeks and suck him noisily. He’s probably just telling me what I want to hear, like most men in my experience, but the sentiment is sweet.