Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
At this point, my cock was so hard it hurt.
Eden’s panties and bra went next.
The Butcher's gaze scanned her body, taking in every inch of her nakedness. Her pussy was shaved bald and her breasts were like melons— round and firm, full and perky.
Instantly, I yearned to suck on her nipples and feel the weight of her breasts in my hands.
Seconds later, I shifted from wanting to smoke, to yearning to see how talented she was.
Eden's body represented a work of art and I wanted to explore every inch of it.
Jean-Pierre explored her body with his hands, gently tracing the outline of her collarbone before teasing her nipples and plunging deep into the wet folds between her thighs. Those fingers must have been magical because I swore her body came alive with pleasure.
Damn, baby.
Eden didn't hear me. Moaning, she tugged his pants down his hips, revealed his hard dick, and caressed his length.
Then the fun truly began.
Jean-Pierre put her on the counter so fast, I almost coughed on the weed smoke. He pulled her forward so that she leaned off the counter enough to be face-level with his groin. Like a good girl she had his dick in her mouth, mumbling moans as she sucked.
The Butcher's hands fisted in her hair, guiding her head back and forth. His face twisted in delirious delight.
She can swallow that dick up without choking.
Unable to help myself, I unbuttoned my pants and stuffed my hands in my boxer briefs. Greedy desire heated my body. My focus centered on her wet pussy.
I could see it in my mind's eye, the way Eden’s juices would run down my shaft, the way her tight walls would clamp down on me. I could see that wet pussy glistening in the light, could see her inner thighs trembling with anticipation as she took my cock. I could smell her desire, could taste it on my tongue. I yearned to consume her, to devour her. I wanted to make her mine for a few nights. . .but I tried to respect the Butcher and being a guest at his home. Not to mention, it would probably be a death wish to attempt to fuck her. I was trying not to be suicidal.
You know you shouldn’t do this, Max, but you’re going to do it anyway. Huh?
Sometimes I wondered what was wrong with me.
Why couldn't I be content with the life that I already had?
There was always a longing in my heart, an emptiness that I couldn’t understand. It was a deep ache, like something was missing. It throbbed in my core, a constant reminder that I was incomplete.
There weren’t many solutions to the ache. Em’s presence kept it down most of the time. That was why I couldn’t live without her. Sometimes weed could dull it. Other times sex did the job, making the ache a faint echo and giving me a few moments of respite.
Yet, nothing fully worked.
The ache was always there, a part of me that I couldn't ignore. There was always a longing in my heart, an emptiness that I couldn’t understand.
A haunting vacuum throbbing within me.
Fuck it.
Licking my lips, I spit on my dick and stroked it to the rhythm of Eden's moans.
Jean-Pierre started speaking French to her. His words drove her crazy. She rocked her pussy into his hand and I pumped my dick faster.
Eden, I’m barely keeping it cool, but I may try to fuck you. I really need to get out of France before I mess up and try.
I’d been here in Nice, France with the Butcher and his men for a few days.
Boris was no fun. All he wanted to do was work out in Jean-Pierre’s private gym and discuss how he could serve Em better. I’d already told that motherfucker that the best way to take care of Em was to make sure she didn’t go dark. When she did go dark, clean her up and get rid of the bodies. It was nice and simple.
The rest of the time, I gambled with those crazy aunts of Jean-Pierre’s.
When Jean-Pierre left the property for this or that, Eden always came by to chat. It was difficult not to turn it into flirting.
She was so damn fine.
Eden liked to swim in the afternoon. Unable to help myself, I would come out there and converse with her—hit her with that Harlem Game. She laughed a lot at my jokes and batted those lashes.
Jean-Pierre was always going away.
Eden needed some male attention.
Would it be wrong if I were ready serve in any way possible?
Sometimes during our poolside conversations, Eden would take her robe off and reveal the sexiest bikini. She was no skinny chick. Lots of ass. Lots of curves. A little tummy that would be perfect to grip if I fucked her from behind.