Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Never.
Yet, I still somehow find it incredibly attractive on him.
All my fury is gone as I admire his tight ass in a pair of dark gray skinny jeans that have seen better days. As though to taunt me, he bends over, scraping his tool over the clay, fine-tuning whatever it is he’s working on. From the looks of it, it’s shaping up to be a male torso. He’s clearly obsessed with the human—male—body as most of the sculptures carefully placed all over his studio are just that. Not many heads on them, really. Or hands or legs or feet. Mostly just bodies and backs and shoulders and biceps and abs and bellybuttons.
I step farther into the room, and the two dogs perk their ears up from the armchair in the corner, but neither of them gets up to greet me. They seem perfectly relaxed as Alis works. Slowly, I creep up behind him, overwhelmed with the desire to touch him and inhale him and taste him.
As I approach, I realize the sculpture is of a body leaning back and resting on its elbows, even though there are no arms or hands past the elbows. The dick is erect and large, with a pair of balls nestled between two thick thighs that end just above the knees. Both nipples are taut, and the detail with which he’s cut into the abs is impressive.
“Your dad doesn’t care that you’re up here making playdough porn?”
He jumps at the sound of my voice, dropping his metal tool on the table. Weary brown eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “It’s art, not porn.”
“Does your dad know your sculpture is of me?”
He lifts a dark brow, turning his body toward me. “Awfully full of yourself. It could be anyone—literally anyone—but you.”
“But it’s not. I recognize my own dick.”
A pink flush steals across his skin as his lips tug on one corner. My mouth waters to taste that almost-smile of his. To bite it from his pouty fucking pillow lips.
“Go away,” he grunts, his gaze sweeping over my bare chest. “You’re distracting. I’m working.”
“But I’m your muse,” I tease, stepping toward him until the tips of my bare toes are touching his. “I’m here to inspire you.”
“By getting your dick sucked again?” He lifts his chin and pins me with a challenging stare.
Up close, I’m able to get drunk off the lime scent that sends lust curling deep in my balls, making me ache to bury my face against his neck so I can inhale him.
“I thought I might return the favor.” My words make his entire body tremble like ripples on a lake. “Thank you for making my room feel like home.”
His thumbs hook into the top of my wind pants, and he teases the flesh beneath the waistband. “You want to suck my dick?” He scoffs. “You even know how?”
One of my fingers traces up the side of his arm as my other palm clutches his perfect ass. “We’ve already established I’m the best at everything. I may have never put a dick in my mouth, but I’m a guy. I know what feels good. Plus, you gave me a nice lesson yesterday.”
“Our dads—”
“Way to kill a boner, man.” I chuckle and dip my head down to his neck just as I craved to do earlier. Flicking my tongue out, I lick up the side until I reach his ear. I nip at the lobe, enjoying the shivers trembling through him. “I’m going to suck you off, Wonderland, and you’re going to fucking love it.”
He gasps when I start to pull off his shirt. It gets tossed away, and then my hands are on the button of his jeans. His briefs, this time, aren’t pink but instead an obnoxious orange. I’m turned the hell on by how his dick strains at the fabric, eager for escape. He groans when I palm him over his tight briefs, running my thumb over the piercing I can feel through the material.
“We shouldn’t do this.” He whispers as though he doesn’t want me to hear. I pretend I don’t.
The sharp sound of his breath as I push his briefs down, I do hear, though. It excites me and encourages me to continue to undress him. Once he’s naked and standing before me, I can’t decide what I want to do next or where to touch him.
“I want you here,” I growl as I grab his hips, hoisting him onto a free space on his worktable. “Need to see you up close.”
He leans back on his elbows, his taut stomach rippling with the action, and boldly spreads his thighs to present his cock and balls like a fucking buffet. I lick my lips, desperate to taste him. My mind reels at all the places I crave to touch him first.
His brown eyes are darker than usual, two portals in an abyss of lust and adoration. I don’t mind getting swallowed in his stare. I’ve never been watched with such hunger and need and desperation in all my life. It makes me feel powerful and also scared as shit.