Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
My rebuttal is gruff and airy, “Talk tomorrow?”
“Perfect.”
Roughly yanking her mouth to mine is followed by frantic movements only she is capable of causing. One minute we’re whipping our tongues around and the next she bent over the hood of the car with my bare cock shoved to the brink. The fact she didn’t wear underwear informs me she either planned for teasing or being taken, but either way?
I’m all fucking for it.
Self-control becomes a more foreign language to me than fucking Vietnamese, which is what Lego, the mechanic I work most often with, speaks.
Every action is more barbaric than the last.
Gripping the edge of her tiny dress results in the fabric tearing and the sounds echoing around the place I should be working, not fucking, spurs me to pound into her harder. Brutally bounce her shaking frame up and down the hood of this person’s car so that her nipples scrape against the metal. Moans progressively grow into screams while her lower set of lips choke on the juices I savagely shove back into her. The sight of her tight, round ass, bucking into every merciless pump captures my attention in a new unprecedented nature. Watching it jiggle, watching it flex, watching pre-cum work its way up her cheeks and down my balls tears inhumane huffs from my chest. She should be terrified by the noises, yet she simply peers over her shoulder with a wicked gaze.
Smirks.
Licks her lips.
Spreads them wide and pants, “Ry.”
“Fuckin’ A, baby,” is given on a hard spank to her ass cheek.
Her breath hitches from the strike while waves of wetness leak down my shaft, steeping my balls, seducing them into blowing a load now rather than waiting another second. As much as I want to just let go, come, and start the next round immediately, I can’t.
The junkie inside of me being birthed from the ashes of the old one refuses.
It commands we keep going.
Demands we take more hits.
Endure stronger quality.
Cram down higher quantities.
Overdose on her screams, her shivers, and her never-ending surrender.
Pres drops her head forward and slams on the hood of the vehicle for mercy.
For more.
Her slap receives a swat from me starting a ferocious cycle that spirals out of control with her knees being rammed into the grill from the incessant heaving and her tits sloppily pouring out of her dress. I’m not sure when one of her hands snaked itself under between her legs; however, the instant I feel her fingers pull my balls forward to brush against her clit I break.
“That’s it, Pres,” I growl as my thrusting teeters, loses its precise rhythm to chase the new sensations. “Make yourself come on my fucking cock.”
The slightest addition of pressure is applied for only two more strokes.
After those, the love of my life, throws her head back on a heart-stopping shout of my name, the only name I ever want her to use, “Ry!”
She comes hard.
Her pussy constricts and holds my dick hostage inside, refusing to let go until it’s draining from me blistering bursts so powerful that they cause my knees to fucking buckle. In my attempt to catch my falling figure, I end up hunched over her trembling body with my mouth near her elongated neck, so of course, I sink my teeth into the sweat-soaked skin.
Suck.
Lap up her flavors and the salty creation that came from fucking me.
Being with me.
Being mine.
Pres hums at the connection and slowly rocks her lower half into mine that’s now shallow thrusting. “We should just order takeout again.”
“Fine by me, baby,” I hum against the darkening flesh. “The only thing I’m interested in having is you.”
After an extended sentence in the most treacherous, desolate prison – my own fucked up mind – it’s impossible to want anything else.
There’s no denying that the feign inside of me is alive and greedy.
I just need to manage it better.
And I will.
Tomorrow.
Tonight, we do the irresponsible thing like she asked and make up for a decade’s worth of fucking.
Oh, and maybe order food?
I wonder if she likes Thai…
Chapter 11
Presley
Discussion Topic 6: Risk Assessment is Mandatory
I can do this.
Like I know I am physically capable of having a conversation.
I can talk to Ry.
I can do more than find a way to get naked – or stay naked – and have crazy, hot, “ohmygod why weren’t we doing this sooner” sex with him.
Which is what we probably would still be doing if he didn’t have to work today.
Apparently, unless he requests off, he works every Saturday.
It’s a shop rule.
Or is it garage?
Is there a difference?
He used them interchangeably last night while telling me about work over Thai food.
We sat on my living room floor – something Xander would’ve never done in a million years – and just chatted. I loved hearing about what he does, his co-workers, the fact that he took the time to encourage me to try some of everything we ordered – which was all new to me – yet constantly reassured that it was alright if I didn’t enjoy it.