Go to Hail Read Online Lani Lynn Vale (Hail Raisers #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Erotic, Funny, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Hail Raisers Series by Lani Lynn Vale
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
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He started coming toward me, and I moved backward.

My eyes were on the way he was moving to me, like a cat would stalk something he was about to devour. Pounce on and attack without a second’s notice.

My back hit the cold wall, and I inadvertently shifted sideways, disrupting the curtains covering the window.

The curtains parted, and a shaft of light from the streetlamp outside had me turning to survey behind me.

Which was my mistake.

I wasn’t prepared to find him practically on top of me when I turned back around.

I wasn’t prepared for him to take my wrist into his, and then place the bottle of lube inside of my hand.

I wasn’t prepared for him when he said, “Get me ready.”

I didn’t know what to do!

I’d never once needed lube.

Hence the reason that I squirted so fucking much out.

It wasn’t a little bit. It was a lot.

Likely, I only needed the smallest of dollops.

Instead, I coated my entire palm in the stuff, pouring as much out as I would when I put lotion on my hands and forearms.

I had no clue how runny and sticky it would be, nor did I have any inkling of the mess it would make.

No, there I was, a handful of fucking lube in my palm, and I tipped it over straight onto his straining cock.

He started to laugh when it went everywhere, but he didn’t correct me. Didn’t stop to make a comment about how this was going to be fun to clean up. Not Travis. He just watched me, eyes full of need and lust, and allowed me to rub the clear liquid all over the length of his cock.

I was amazed with how much I had and reached my hand down to cup his balls as I continued to work his cock.

His cock felt so hard that there wasn’t a single inch of softness to him. He was at least nine inches in my hand, if not more. And the thickness of that nine inches was something that I’d never forget. It filled me so amazingly. I could still practically feel him inside of me.

And that was when I started to get nervous.

If his fingers—only two—were inside of me, what would it feel like if it were his cock?

I was so lost in the way he felt in my hands that I didn’t realize I was actually making him curse until he stilled both of my hands by saying, “Stop.”

I stopped and looked up into his eyes and waited for his next direction.

He pulled me by the hips and settled me between his thighs. He was on the seat that took up a small alcove right in front of our window, and his back was pressed against the curtains, his thighs spread wide with his glorious balls resting between them.

His cock was jutting straight up in the air, pointing toward the ceiling, begging me to touch it.

When I went to do just that, he stilled my hand.

“Got nothing left. You touch me, I’ll fucking come.”

I bit my lip and dropped my hand to my side, my finger steadily tapping out a rhythm on my thigh.

“Turn around and put your knees on either side of my thighs.”

I turned, and then slowly got into position, my ass hovering high over his straining erection.

My knees were digging into the outdoor swing cushion I’d gotten on sale at Lowe’s last week, and from across the room, I could see myself in the mirror that hung above my dresser, the panty drawer still mostly open from where Travis had left it.

I bit my lip at the way my breasts hung, full and supple. The way my belly rose and fell with my accelerated breathing. The way I had a blush rising over my chest to my chin.

My eyes, however…those were glazed in passion.

Then I felt the tip of one finger on my anus.

I jumped.

He chuckled darkly and said, “Bend forward a little.”

I did, placing both of my hands on his knees—uncaring that I was getting my lubed-up hands all over his skin.

He swirled that finger around my asshole, teasing, caressing, coaxing.

At first, I was stiff, but the longer he let his fingers move the more I relaxed, which was exactly what he wanted.

“Good,” he said, then breached me.

I bit my lip and dropped my head, my blonde curls falling over my shoulder to brush against the insides of his knees.

I couldn’t help myself from moving my hips, slowly at first.

God, I needed him. Needed this.

Then one finger went to two, then two to three.

He worked each inside of me slowly, getting me well acclimated before he gave me more.

And by the time I was easily taking three, my asshole stretched for his invasion, I was on the verge of another orgasm.

Travis was a good man. He never once let me come without him—but we’d only had sex a total of seven times.


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