Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You’re gorgeous,” I say.
He pulls my t-shirt over my head and unclasps my bra. “It’s like you’re made for me, you’re so perfect.”
We fumble at each other’s clothes like it’s Christmas morning and we’re eight-year-olds trying to unwrap everything at warp speed. In seconds we’re naked in the middle of his kitchen.
He’s found a condom from somewhere, rips it open, and spins me around so I have my back to him. “Put your hands on the counter.” It’s an order and I’m happy to comply.
Just as I curl my fingers over the side, he pulls my hips toward him and I lose my balance. He steadies me.
“You’re going to need to hold on,” he says.
I grip the countertop and he presses my back so it’s flat, level with the counter. His hands smooth over my bottom and down my thighs and then his tongue is on me, at the base of my spine. He licks up, up, up, and my body shivers and writhes against him. It feels like he’s claiming me, tattooing me with his tongue, making me his.
He leans over me, his front against my back, and with one hand braced on the counter next to mine, his breath against my cheek, his free hand roams, finding my breasts, my stomach, my clit.
“I want to be as good for you as you are for me,” he whispers.
I replay his words, trying to remember exactly what he said. He wants to make it good for me? What’s he saying? Is this about sex, or more than that?
I’m pulled back into the moment by him sliding into me. It winds me, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to catch my breath. It’s like someone’s stamping on my lungs and I might pass out if I can’t find oxygen from somewhere. I let out a cry as he reaches the end of me and my knees start to buckle. To steady me, he hooks his hand around my waist.
But he doesn’t let up.
He pulls back and then slams into me, and it’s only his hand keeping me in place that stops me falling. I try and pull in a breath and keep my position, because although it’s almost too much, I’d do anything for more.
He stills deep inside me and I grip the edge of the countertop, preparing myself for what’s to come. I’m so full of him, I can’t move now.
“Breathe,” he growls against my ear.
I do what he says and I manage to fill my lungs until his hand underneath me finds my clit.
It’s game over. Any semblance of control I thought I had dissolves under his touch and I have no say anymore in my body’s reaction. I can’t will myself to breathe, stand with my legs straight, or keep my hands clamped to the counter.
I don’t have room in my brain to think about anything.
All I can do is feel everything.
He starts to work in and out of me as his fingers slide and press, and it’s been just a few minutes but my orgasm bursts out of me, rolling through my body like a stampede of horses. But Zach doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even slow down, and I’m barely conscious from my first orgasm when I feel the stirrings of the next one.
“You feel so good,” he says, smoothing his hands over my shoulders, cupping my breasts, pulling at my nipples in a way that’s bordering on painful but just the right side of how-did-I-not-know-anything-could-feel-like-this?
“I’m going to make you come again.” His voice is rough, and it doesn’t sound like him. He sounds sexy but a little desperate—like he wants me as much as I want him. The thought that I might be capable of making him feel even a small part of how he makes me feel shifts things. It gives me the strength to straighten my arms and I push against him, just slightly.
He groans and I feel my power grow. We move like we’re two parts of a machine made to fit each other, working together perfectly.
“Can you feel that?” he asks. “Can you feel how good this is?”
I can’t answer. My voice has gone, my thoughts are jumbled. All I can focus on is the threatening orgasm drumming against my spine. My skin tightens across my body and he speeds up behind me. Whatever lid has kept me from boiling over slides off and I call out his name.
My orgasm pours over me like hot chocolate sauce and Zach latches his hands over my shoulders to hold me in place as he pushes his hips up, up, up.
He groans and collapses over me, spent and exhausted.
My knees finally give way and he catches me just before I fall. He pulls me onto the floor where we recover in a naked heap, hot and sticky, limbs intertwined.