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)
Hank obeyed, smacking my hard ass enough to leave a handprint before whirling me to face him. Then he crashed his mouth over mine as if to quiet my yelp. I groaned, fumbling with his belt and zipper. My dick was a steel rod and damn it, I needed to touch him.
Hank sucked my tongue, squeezing my ass and parting my cheeks as we feverishly humped and made out like horny teens.
“No lube, sweetheart. We should go to the house.”
“My back pocket. I bought those travel packets…just in case of emergency,” I croaked out. “This is an emergency. I need your cock now.”
My mouth was dry, and my veins were thrumming with desire. The way he looked at me, like I was something special, was an incredible rush. Everything in me wanted to pounce and claim him, but I wanted him to do the taking tonight.
And just like that, he dropped to his knees behind me and got to work, licking, laving, feasting on my hole. His hat fell off his head as he pushed the tip of his tongue deeper still, adding fingers to the mix.
I bucked my hips, demanding more as I stroked my cock. He knew what I wanted, but I’d beg if I had to.
“You want me to take you for a ride, sweetheart?” Hank taunted.
“Fuck, yes. Ride me.” I twisted to offer him my mouth. “Hat.”
He chuckled as he bent to pick up his hat, setting it on his head and shoving his boxer briefs lower. “Better?”
He slathered my hole with lube, then lined his dick at my entrance and slowly slid inside.
There was nothing romantic or pretty about it. This was raunchy sex—the slap of skin, roving hands, sloppy kisses, and a chorus of grunts and nasty commands—and I fucking loved it. At some point, I lifted my leg to rest on a higher slat on the stall door. It changed the angle and fuck, it changed the game.
Hank’s balls slapped obscenely against my ass as he drilled me, holding my knee with one hand and reaching around to jack me with his free hand. Pleasure tingled up my spine, and I knew that was it for me.
“I’m gonna come.” I shot my load over his fist and on the hay, shivering through the aftershocks.
Hank pulled out and waited for me to stand, his cock thick and proud and begging for release. I turned slowly and met his gaze. And damn, I was positive no one had ever looked at me like that in my life.
He tugged his shirt off and laid it on one of the bales he’d brought down, pointing earnestly. I didn’t need to be told twice.
I lay flat on my back and opened for him, moaning like a ho as he slid home. Hank fucked me relentlessly, pumping his hips double time, his rhythm faltering just before he fell apart.
I held on tightly, pulling him close so our noses brushed. I breathed him in and felt something shift inside me. It took the air from my lungs and burned my eyes. I didn’t know what to do with the excess emotion, so I buried my head in the crook of his neck and hid like a child.
Clarity washed over me like a tsunami.
This felt right and real.
And probably bigger than a summer fling was supposed to.
“Where’ve you been?” Grams asked, pointing at my house from her kitchen window. “I haven’t seen your truck in your driveway any night this week.”
“I’ve been around. Hey, I’m going to change the battery on the bedroom fire alarms, then head over to the rink. Kids are checking in for camp and we’re skating tomorrow, so I might be busy and I don’t want to forget,” I babbled.
My grandmother folded her arms across her tiny frame and regarded me suspiciously. “You can tell me anything, you know.”
“Grams, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Hmm. Does Mary-Kate know?”
“Know what? Never mind,” I huffed. “MK and I aren’t together.”
“And I’m the only one who knows about that.”
I winced. “Well, yes…”
“All right. Not my business, but you smell funny. Take a damn shower,” she grumbled, shuffling down the hallway.
I sniffed my pits and scowled after her. I’d showered before I’d come by, which meant that was her crafty way of telling me she knew something was up. I loved Grams, but I had no plans to tell her about Hank. We were fuck-buddies, not boyfriends.
That didn’t explain the butterflies in my stomach at the sight of Hank at a volunteer table in the lobby at Elmwood Rink an hour later. I’d known he’d be here. I’d known he’d be wearing a lanyard, looking official and friendly as he greeted the new campers and handed out backpacks and name badges. I hadn’t counted on him looking like he belonged here.
Fuck, he had a great smile—warm and open, as if he’d been waiting all damn day for the next person to approach his table to say hello. I wanted a piece of that. I wanted—