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)
Using two fingers, I part her pussy lips and dip into her slit, finding her slick and wet. She's so soft there in this private place between her legs that's been hidden like a naughty little secret. My finger is like a blunt instrument against her tight little hole and the muscles ripple against my skin as her body resists the potential intrusion.
“Easy,” I tell her, rolling her nipple, teasing it to an ever-sharper point.
“Rock,” she whispers again as I push inside just a little. She's insanely small, like a virgin who's never even seen a dick. Higher, her little clit throbs.
“What did Kinkaid do to you?”
“He licked me,” she says, wriggling when I leave the pad of my finger hovering over her nub.
“And what did you do to him?”
She shivers. “I blew him.”
I tap her clit and she gasps. “Did you let him come in your mouth?”
“Yes,” she admits.
Her hands drop to cup my dick. The first touch is like an electric shock. My balls tighten, and my dick stiffens as she engulfs me with slow, easy pressure.
“That's it,” I croon, rocking into the circle of her fingers. “That's it, Lory. Show me how good you are at stroking my cock.” Her fingers tighten, her hand jerking faster, and I close my eyes, letting my head drop back against the cool plaster as I ease her nipple between my forefinger and thumb, twisting until she bucks.
She's so responsive, so built to take pleasure, and so open to receiving it. I bring my finger to my lips, tasting her arousal, and then use my spit to slick her clit, making tight circles around it. I’m high from her sweetness.
“Spread your legs,” I grunt. “That's it. A little wider. Open yourself.”
Jesus. She does it, feet pressed together but hips hinged wide. Her pussy’s like a flower against my big, thick fingers, all delicate petals and softness. I'm almost glad Kinkaid made this rule because, without it, I'd be inside her—I’m not strong enough to resist—and all of this would turn out different. There's something in the act of taking it slow, of building up.
“Open your hand,” I instruct, then take my cock and press it along her folds. “Ride it like this. Get it nice and wet.”
Lory moans as she shifts her hips to slide the length of my throbbing dick while I rub her clit with two fingers. She pushes against the bed with her heels, and each pass of her pussy over my cock is slicker and hotter. I bring my mouth to her ear. “Your pussy feels so good. So sweet against my big dick.”
“You feel good,” she groans as I suck her earlobe into my mouth
She’s better than good. She's an angel showing me the way out of purgatory. She's the light at the end of the longest, darkest tunnel. She's perfect.
“That's it,” she says, trembling against me, pressing my cock harder against her cunt.
“That's it, sweet girl. Let me make you come.”
In two more bucking thrusts, she arches and cries out, her pussy fluttering against my dick. I can't hold back anymore, groaning as thick ropes of cum coat her clit and my fingers, her hands, and the sheets beneath us. I fly higher than I've ever soared, clutching the poor girl so tightly that her ribs fight to expand against my forearm. I'm mindless, boneless, releasing like a blowtorch, all flame and fury and desperation.
And Lory's limp in my arms. I loosen my grip, sliding both my palms over her belly to cup her breasts, slicking my cum over her skin, marking her like she's mine. Her heart pounds beneath my palm, and I turn her, taking her mouth with a searing kiss, tongues tangling as her hands roam my chest beneath my shirt, tickling my rounded pecs and my abs, bringing me back to the land of the living.
“That was…”
There are no words to describe what that was.
“Necessary,” she whispers. It's the perfect way to describe what I just felt.
“Necessary,” I agree.
She strokes my rough, bearded face, threading her fingers through my hair. Lower, she traces my tattoos, but she doesn't question me about them. Most of them are there to anchor me to people I should never have run with or remind me of situations I wish I could forget.
We rest in an afterglow like the sun paused on its way below the horizon just to shine on us.
After a few minutes, there's a clatter outside. Lory jumps, pressing against my chest to sit up. “What was that?”
“I don't know. Let me up so I can find out.”
She climbs from between my legs. Until my feet are on the floor, I don't realize how fucked my legs are, all jelly-centered from sex. I stumble, and my palm catches the rough corner of the metal nightstand, slicing into my skin.