Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
We made out for a while, exploring each other with deep kisses and roving hands. Even fully clothed, Denny Mellon’s body was a work of art to be worshiped with reverence. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, down his chest, and along his sides while he plunged into my mouth, sucking the air out of me.
I broke for oxygen, nibbling his bottom lip, my fingers resting on his belt buckle. When he inclined his chin, I threaded the leather strap through the loop, undid the button, and unzipped his fly. He caught my wrists, held them behind my back, and recaptured my mouth.
Jesus, that did something for me.
I hadn’t been with someone who could physically overpower me in a long time. I forgot how much I liked giving someone else the reins.
He dragged his stubbled jaw along mine and nipped my earlobe.
“Take your jeans off,” he commanded gruffly, releasing my wrists.
I unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped in a flash, then hooked my thumbs through my belt loops. “I’m still wet. This is gonna take a while.”
Denny leaned casually against the counter, looking surprisingly confident for a guy who’d never been with a man. “We have time, and it’s your turn to do a striptease.”
“Fair warning. It’s not going to be pretty…or sexy.”
“Was mine?”
“Uh…no,” I admitted, pulling my T-shirt over my head.
“The bar is low, cowboy. I think you can do this.”
I furrowed my brow in faux exasperation and wiggled the denim over my ass. It wasn’t a dance, nor was I shaking my hips. Okay, I was a little bit, but that was because the fabric was uncomfortably wet and tight as fuck.
By the time I’d rolled my jeans to my knees, I was practically sweating…and very much aware of Denny’s heated gaze traveling over my torso.
“My knees are trapped. Help me peel these off.”
Denny froze. I could practically see the wheels in his brain turning, weighing consequences and repercussions. There’d be no pretending this was the product of last weekend’s drunken madness or desperation now. This was something new.
I might be getting the better end of this deal, but God, I’d make it worth his while.
He had to make the next move, though. He had to be sure.
I held my breath and waited.
Denny licked his bottom lip and trapped it between his teeth, his eyes fixed on my mouth before sliding slowly south. I didn’t want to spook him, but my dick had a mind of its own. There was no way he didn’t notice the massive tent in my boxer briefs.
Just as I wondered if this was too much, too real for him, Denny shoved my boxer briefs out of the way. My cock sprang free, bobbing enthusiastically as if it were personally greeting a new friend, drooling precum and all.
There was probably a joke to be made here, something to lighten the mood and keep this fun so neither of us would regret it in the morning, but Denny didn’t seem tentative or nervous in any way. His confidence was back, and he was more determined than ever—as if my cock were his number-one priority.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He brushed his thumb along my shaft and gently cupped my balls, weighing them like precious orbs.
“You don’t have to be so careful,” I choked out. “Tighten your grip. That’s it.”
Denny obeyed, curling his fingers around my base, testing his hold before gliding up and down. Goose bumps rose over my skin. I shivered with need, torn between being mesmerized by his curiosity while fighting the urge to take over.
But no…this was his show. I was here for the ride.
He stroked me faster, then slower, experimenting with pressure. His brows were drawn together, his lips parted as he explored. “Does this feel good?”
“Yeah. Do what you like when you touch yourself. I bet I’ll like it too.”
Denny nodded, squeezing my cock on the upstroke, milking my slit. He dragged a thumb through the precum and used it as lube, circling the tip over and over. It was too much and not enough.
“Can I taste?” he asked, gazing at me through hooded lids.
I slicked my forefinger and pressed it to his lips. “Try it.”
He opened his mouth and sucked my finger. Denny’s obscene moan echoed off the high ceilings and wrapped me in knots of thick desire. I hadn’t “experimented” in years, hadn’t realized I’d signed on for torture. And make no mistake, he was fucking torturing me.
Denny released my finger and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Salty, but good.”
“Have you tasted your own cum?”
“Yeah, but this is different. Better.” He tilted his chin, jacking me in long, languid strokes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to suck your cock, but I feel like I should do everything at once. This is a dream. It’s like it’s not even real.”