Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
With his hands full of my ass, Sean backed us up while kissing me with such hunger, I would’ve thought he’d never kissed a woman before if I didn’t know any better.
He was sloppy and rushed and sucked so hard on my lips, it hurt.
It was the best, the best, kiss of my life and would forever hold that title. I just knew it.
“Fuck!” His one hand braced us on the side of the house when he nearly stumbled up the porch steps.
I didn’t care if we fell. I kept kissing him everywhere.
His mouth. His cheeks. His neck. Kept gasping. Kept moaning. Kept touching him. Gripping and clawing at his muscles. I moved my hands over his back and dipped them beneath the shirt of his I couldn’t get off. I grasped at his body like I was starved for it, because I was.
“Hurry,” I begged. “Oh, God, please hurry. I need you to touch me.”
“Keep sayin’ that,” he muttered.
“Touch me. I need it. I want this so bad, Sean.”
So bad—he had no idea.
Sean got us up onto the porch and kicked the door open. We barely made it inside before he was on his back and I was on top of him.
That was when we went from crazy to fucking nuts.
“Shit!” I reached over to push the door closed so no one could watch Sean suck my breast into his mouth. “Oh, fuck…fuck!” Holy Lord, that sensation. His mouth. My body. I was going to explode. “Sean! Sean, Sean, Sean.” I weaved my fingers through his hair and held him to me as he lapped my other breast and tongued my nipple.
My shirt wasn’t even over my head yet. It was stuck around my neck. And my bra was still latched but shoved down to my waist.
“A year,” he mumbled into my skin. “A fuckin’ year, I wanted this.” He kissed up to my neck and licked there.
Oh, God. The girls had been right. They were right!
I shoved my hands between us and fumbled with his belt, getting it loose, then I tried unbuttoning his jeans while Sean grabbed at the pair I was wearing. He attempted getting them over my hips but couldn’t with the way I was kneeling.
“Wait. You do you, I’ll do me,” I told him, flopping back so my ass landed between his legs.
I pulled off my sneakers and ripped off my shirt and bra, then, leaning back, I wiggled out of my pants and panties and tossed them aside as Sean peeled off his shirt, tugged off his boots, and got one leg out of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything under them.
I barely got a glance at his cock before we were both lunging at each other, kissing, moaning, grasping at every part of the other person we could touch.
This was madness. This was sex without thought, without pause, without question. Letting desire drive and leaving reason and all sense behind. Fuck stopping to think. Fuck wondering, Should we? Could we? What if we did? We were just feeling. Feeling and letting it all happen.
It was the most beautiful, chaotic thing I’d ever experienced.
I pulled off his jeans so they weren’t stuck around his ankle, then I crawled closer. His hands moved under my thighs and my arms around his back, flew to his shoulders and braced when he slid, hard and heavy between my legs.
Sean’s hands shook on my body.
His gaze was wild, beautiful, and terrified.
“Take me,” I whispered, staring deep into his eyes and speaking inside his mouth. “Please, Sean, take me.”
He fingers tensed. His body grew taut and still.
“Please,” I begged.
I sank down as he pumped up his hips, filling me in one hard thrust.
“Ah!” Neck arching, I cried out.
A strangled groan tore out of Sean’s throat. His breath came out in hot pants on my neck, and his fingers on my skin dug in, then his hands slid to my hips as he stretched out beneath me.
Head lifting, he stared between us.
My body was ready—I was so wet, I could feel it sticking to my thighs—but the fact that I’d gone nearly two years without sex wasn’t lost on me in that moment. Sean was so full inside me, and it could’ve, might’ve hurt if I didn’t want this as much as I did. If I didn’t want to move as much I wanted to move. If I hadn’t thought about this moment, obsessed over it, wanting wanting wanting it to happen so badly and never thinking it would.
I didn’t feel pain. I felt him—his fingers digging into my hips and his legs beneath my own, the sweat on his skin as I stroked my hands up his body. His heartbeat under my palm.
I felt him, and I wanted more.
When I shifted my hips forward, he groaned, and God, that sound, so deep and tortured, it broke out bumps of pleasure along my skin.