Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I feel it with every banging beat of my heart.
He’s going to tear it off. It’s in his eyes, his blazing, intense eyes, and he does.
He fists the fabric and pulls. He pulls and pulls until the veins on his wrists stand taut and his face goes tight with the force. So much force that I reach up and caress his harshly hinged jaw.
As soon as I do it, the shirt gives and the buttons pop out.
My spine arches at that, thrusting my breasts out.
He has to look at them then. He has to stare at my jiggling tits as he does the same with the rest of the buttons, tearing his own shirt open.
God, he’s such a bad man, isn’t he?
Once he’s done, he spreads the flaps apart, exposing me to his eyes. Exposing my tiny, blushing body that he can’t stop staring at.
Then he bends even further down and takes a nipple in his mouth, giving it a long suck like I gave my lollipop, making me arch up some more and fist the sheets.
He doesn’t stop with the suck though. He takes it in his rough hand, gropes it and plumps it up, sticking the nipple in his mouth even more.
As if he loves this, this rough, delicious treatment of my breast, he groans. He grunts and rubs his beard over the tender flesh.
“Graham,” I gasp.
“Fucking love your tits, baby. Love how they bounce for me.”
And he proves it. He proves how much he loves it by making them bounce. By kneading them in his big hands and making them jiggle, rubbing the nipples with his open palm, making me lose all my sense and thoughts.
He even grabs me around my waist and tugs me forward on the bed, so they jiggle some more. They dance and shake for him, my tits.
By the time he’s done playing with them, I’m writhing on the bed. My panties are all drenched and sticky and he comes back up to my mouth for another kiss.
This one’s short though.
He ends it quickly, like he’s got other plans for me, and moves away.
I sit there, half-slumped and completely aroused and panting. Like last night, he goes for his shirt in an impatient way. He undoes a few buttons and reaches back to snag it off his body in one go, baring his brawny chest and rumpling up his gorgeous hair.
Gosh, he needs a haircut, my Strawberry Man. But I’m not going to tell him that. Because he looks sexy as fuck.
He leaves his jeans on when he gets on the bed and I have to say I’m a little disappointed. But he makes up for it by showing off his huge hard-on inside his pants.
It’s tenting his jeans, actually, pressing against the zipper. I can even imagine it – the angry, glorious crown of it, pushing against the confines of his pants, maybe leaking pre-cum. Leaking it so much that he’ll get a wet, dark spot there.
Oh God, I so want that.
I want that wet spot on his jeans. I want that as much as I want him to take it out, his big, bad cock, and fuck me with it.
My man has the same thought, I think. Because all the while I was staring at his cock, he’s been staring at my panty-covered pussy, his face all tight and clenched up. Even though I’m covered like him, I bet he can see the same thing as me.
He can see how swollen my pussy is and how my lips press against the fabric. How he can make out my seam and how there’s a giant wet spot there.
With his chin still dipped, he lifts his eyes up to me. He puts a finger on my right knee, moving it in circles, making my skin break out in goosebumps.
“Does it hurt?” he rasps, and I know he’s asking about my pussy.
I flex my inner muscles and shake my head. “No.”
“No?”
He goes on and on with his light circles and I wiggle my hips. “No. You took care of it last night, anyway.”
He hums, like he’s thinking about it right now, picturing caring for her, my pussy.
Before going to sleep last night and before he got up to work on the roses, he cared for me. He brought in a hot, wet towel and pressed it against my core, taking away all the soreness. Turns out I did bleed, but only a little. There was a smudge of it on my thighs and at the base of his cock and he cleaned that spot up too.
He looked a little horrified at that but I distracted him by kissing all over his beard and his chest.
I notice the moment he gets back to the present and out of last night’s memory. His finger stops making circles and instead moves up my thigh. It moves and slides up and up until his hand is a band around my upper thigh.