Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
That was romantic to me.
She obviously turned on by the dark alleyway because she moaned more than she usually did, rocked her hips so she could take my dick over and over, squeezed her nails into my arms as she held on. “Heath…”
She said my name all the time, and that was so fucking hot. How many other men’s names had she said? Or was I the only one? As I rocked into her, I could feel her cream building up around the base of my dick, feel it sticking to my hair and sliding down to my balls. She was always so wet, always so ready for me. “Baby, this pussy…” It wasn’t just her wet tightness that I couldn’t get enough of. It was her—all of her. It was her spunk, her fire, her sass.
She pulled me closer and pressed her mouth to mine as she came, masking her noises with my kiss so anybody walking nearby wouldn’t know about the free show we were putting on. Her nails clawed deeper, and she bucked against me, coming hard, passionately. She closed her eyes and leaned back, breathing through what she just experienced.
I was ready to come, ready the second I was inside. “Slap me.”
She opened her eyes and took a moment to process what I said. Then she did as I asked, slapping her palm across my face.
I turned with the hit, moaning because I loved her small palm against my cheek. “You can do better than that, baby.”
She slapped me harder, not holding back.
That time, it made an audible clap, made my cheek burn. I groaned at the hit then came inside her, shoving my fat dick deep inside her so I could fill her entire pussy with my come. My fingers dug into her thigh, and I pressed my face into her neck, breathing hard as I enjoyed one of the best climaxes of my life.
She’d asked why I liked to fuck whores, and now I wasn’t sure what the appeal was. Why would I ever want to go back to that when I had this? Paying a woman to be a fantasy was a major step down when compared to having a real fantasy, being with a woman who had infected my body, mind, and soul. She was latched on so tight she could never disappear. At least, I wouldn’t let her.
I moved my gaze back to hers and gently pulled my length out of her slit, feeling my come drip out the second I wasn’t plugging her up. I pulled up my pants and put my dick back in my boxers, catching a glimpse of all the shiny cream that was plastered onto my length.
She pushed her dress down. “Can I have my underwear?” She extended her hand.
“Why?” I wrapped my arm around her waist. “They’re just gonna come off the second we get to your apartment.”
Her dress was on the floor next to my jeans. Her shoes had been kicked across the room, one at the door of her closet, while the other somehow ended up on top of her dresser. Now, she was asleep beside me, the sheets barely covering her chest as her lips remained parted. Her chest rose and fell slowly, and she slept in peaceful bliss.
I watched her for a while, her hair out of the ponytail because I’d yanked it free. There was a noticeable crease in her hair because it’d been in so tight. She had such a pretty face that she looked good when her hair was pulled back, but I still liked it all over the place so I could pull on it like reins.
I wasn’t tired because these were my peak hours, so I left the bed and stepped into the shower. The warm water fell around me as I remembered the conversation that took place in this room when I brought her home, bruised and in pain.
I closed my eyes because the memory was unbearable, even now.
I left the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. Her bathroom was small, a single sink and a small mirror on the wall. I ran my fingers through my hair as I looked at myself. The stubble on my face was getting so thick that a beard would be next, so I grabbed her razor and shaved, cutting myself a few times but indifferent to the sting. She probably shaved her pussy with this same razor, which was exactly why I used it.
I dried my hair then walked out of the bathroom in my boxers, drops of blood on my face from the places where the razor had sliced me. I moved into her kitchen, looking around for something good but only found wine. I grabbed a bottle, disappointed when I saw the kind.
Barsetti Vineyards.
The Barsettis were fucking pricks.