Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“That’s it, baby,” he pants, still going. “Give me all your sweet cream.”
“Tyler! God, Tyler,” I whimper, my head thrashing back and forth on the pillow.
I barely finish coming when he pulls out and quickly flips me over. When he slides back into me, I bury my face in the comforter and scream. He’s even bigger this way, and my already sensitive pussy is stretched to capacity. He’s thundering into me now at a rate I didn’t realize was even humanly possible. Hands at my waist, he pulls me back against him with every forward thrust, the slap-slap-slap of his skin hitting mine filling the room. This isn’t just sex. It’s something else entirely.
“Brace on one hand and work your nipples with the other,” he orders. “Don’t be gentle.”
My already sensitive nipples are somehow even more tender. Each twist and pull has a direct line down to my clit, making me even wetter.
“Yeah,” he praises as he pounds into me. “So fuckin’ wet, Ashley. Making a beautiful mess all over my dick and my bed. I love it.”
I think I’m as high as I can go, but he proves me wrong when he lets go of the right side of my waist. When I feel his hand spreading my ass, I let out a strangled breath. I hear the sound of spit and then his wet finger is tracing my hole, an area no one’s ever touched before. If you asked me three minutes ago if I liked ass play, it’d have been a firm no, but the sensation is incredible. He teases the bud, swirling his finger over it as he continues pounding in and out of me. When he pushes it in, just a little bit, I let out a garbled cry.
“Don’t tense up,” he says. “Push out and then back.”
Doing as he says, I feel my eyes roll back in my head as his finger breaches. Locking up around him, I scream as I come again, so hard I know I won’t be able to move anytime soon. The deeper his finger goes, the more intense my orgasm is, and the pounding of his cock inside me is making it go on and on.
“Fuck,” he bellows. “Fuck, baby, I’m coming.”
The heat of his release inside me makes me shake. My orgasm continues as he jerks into me with his cock, his finger thrusting in and out of my ass as he does. When it’s over and we’re both spent, I’m more than breathless. I wince when he pulls out, but other than dropping onto my stomach, I don’t move, because I can’t.
I feel him push my hair off my neck and drop a kiss on my shoulder, but I’m too far-gone to say anything. I’m aware I’m well on my way to sleep, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. When my eyelids flutter shut, I don’t fight it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
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ASHLEY
ON THE FIRST Sunday of every month, there’s a barbecue night at Charlotte’s Cove Park. Rick’s Rolling Barbecue serves up two different dinner options: ribs or half a roasted chicken. Every year when my grandparents and I returned to LA, one of the things I’d miss the most was Rick’s. I’ve never had better barbecue anywhere, and I doubt I ever will. Big Rick, his son Little Rick, and now Little Rick’s son Three—short for Richard Mann the third—have a gift that is being passed down through the generations.
Everyone in the Cove loves Rick’s, so turnout is always high. It’s not just the locals either. Rolling Barbeque is booked up on the tourist side of town six or seven months out. However, the first Sunday of every month is a non-negotiable date, no matter how much money the vacationers offer. Rita’s ex once offered Rick’s five thousand dollars to cater a barbecue on one of those Sundays. Not only did they turn him down, but they also blacklisted him for being rude enough to try to bribe them. They wouldn’t serve him at any event they worked, even if it was on his side of town. He sent his maid to pick up dinner for him here once, and they turned her away—after they fed her for free.
Hand in hand, Tyler and I are making our way through the park, where anyone who isn’t sick, dying, or tending to an emergency is assembled for barbecue night. Our progress is slow, because so many people are calling out greetings. “Good evening, Chief. Miss Colton.”
It’s funny how since I started working at the station people have taken to calling me Miss Colton. Spotting the Andovers, I squeeze Tyler’s hand. “They’re with Felicity,” I say. Nodding, he sets a course for the area where they’re seated.
“Children,” Millie greets.
Gah, she’s adorable. Tonight’s ensemble is a bright turquoise Hawaiian top, bright pink capri pants, and her somehow always-bright-white Bobos.