Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
His cock bounces when the waistband of his boxers runs over it, and then it bobs when he steps closer to me. Eye contact is commonly demanded during occurrences like this, but I can’t tear my hooded gaze away from his cock. It is so rigid, long, and thick. He’s also cut, which I’ve heard is unusual for mistreated and abused kids. Their births are generally not recorded, and it is rare for them to attend a doctor’s office, let alone one that will remove their foreskin.
I’m interested to learn more about his heritage, especially with his comment about him liking tequila since he is half his father, but I lose the ability to think straight when he fists his cock and gives it a long stroke.
“I don’t know what I want more, baby girl. Demanding you to strip for me or to feast on you while you’re wearing my shirt.”
Shock stretches across my face. I didn’t realize it was his shirt because it has an emblem on the front for a foreign university.
When he spots my bewilderment, Yev’s lips tug at one side. “I had to do something with my time in Sicily.”
“After the skills you showcased last week, I assumed you honed your boxing skills.”
“I did,” he agrees, his decision made up when he fists the hem of his shirt and pulls it over my head. “But that was only once or twice a week.”
It is hard to keep my focus on our conversation when he drops his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. After teasing it into a firm bud, he releases it with a pop before moving for its equally erect counterpart.
“I was bored out of my fucking mind the rest of the time,” he mutters under his breath before swiveling his tongue around my nipple. Words are above me when he says, “So I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn some new skills. You never know how far a bit of smarts can take you.” He smiles against the curve of my breast. “Could even have you bedding the most beautiful and intelligent woman you’ve ever met.”
As his tongue runs up the gully between my breasts, his hand slips between my legs.
His groan tickles my chest when he feels how wet I am.
“Fucking soaked.”
While running his nose along my collarbone, he drags in a hearty waft of air like the only drug he’ll ever snort again is me. It sends goose bumps racing to the surface of my skin and has my thighs clamping around his hand.
“And impatient.”
As his prickles tickle my neck, his fingertips toy with my clit. He waits for the groan rumbling in my chest to be released by my mouth before he drops the focus of his hand to my opening and pushes two fingers inside me.
With one knee balancing next to my splayed thigh and his forehead an inch from mine, he crooks his fingers to rub the sensitive spot inside me he knows will set me off.
It is amazing having an uninterrupted view of his eyes, but my god, it is torturous as well. His fingers are wonderous, and within a couple of pumps, waves of pleasure form low in my stomach, and the wish to scream smacks into me hard and fast.
I moan his name instead. “Yev…”
It urges him to sink his fingers in deeper and toy with my clit with his thumb.
As he drives me to the brink with nothing but his eyes and one of his hands, my backside lifts off the mattress more and more. His fingers thrusting in tempo to the faint rock of his hips drive me wild. I’m hot all over and panting before I’m blinded by unmistakable pleasure.
“Please… oh god.” I thrash against his hand before the need to kiss him again overwhelms me.
It is a messy, sloppy embrace that steals the devotion of his eyes and prolongs my orgasm by several breathless seconds.
Yev’s relentless pursuit to give me the pleasure of my life ramps up when he spreads my thighs to the width of his shoulders before he lowers his head to the apex of my pussy.
He makes me come again, on his mouth this time, before he proves he’s more than a generous lover. He doesn’t stop at three orgasms or four. He brings me to ecstasy over and over again with his mouth and fingers until I lose count and am so spent I am on the verge of collapse.
“That should have you drenched enough to lessen the burn,” he murmurs as he moves to kneel between my floppy legs.
As he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, he adjusts me so he can enter me without hindrance. It is a position most people would consider boring, but nothing is boring with a man who possesses as much sexual prowess as Yev. Missionary isn’t missionary with him. He’s not squashing me into the mattress and hiding his sweaty face in the crook of my neck, as my girlfriends often complain about. His torso isn’t on me at all. One of my legs is flat against his chest, and the other is wedged between his manly thighs and dangling off the end of the bed.