Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I wonder if he feels the same electricity between us that I do.
“I can’t believe that out of anyone,” he says after a moment, “you’d pick that gangly nobody for your first time.”
Out of anyone, I think, I would choose you for my first time.
“Donnie is nice,” I say unconvincingly.
“Nice, my ass,” Christopher mutters.
It’s when I pull the blanket more tightly around me that I see it: his gaze flickers from mine, down the length of my body, and back again. It lasts no longer than a blink, but it’s unmistakable. My lips part in wonder, and, before I can even register it, he’s closing the distance between us and pressing his mouth to mine.
For half a second, I allow myself to enjoy this, the sudden culmination of all my secret dreams into a delicious reality. His mouth is firm, domineering, but his hands cup the sides of my face with a surprising tenderness. My knees go weak, and I allow myself to lean against his chiseled body, my arms wrapping around him.
Then, the logical part of my brain screams at me for an explanation.
“Wait, wait,” I say against his lips before pulling back from him. The blanket that was wrapped around me falls to the ground, and I stand before him fully nude. My breasts are enormous and the tips scrape across his chest. My vee is swollen and wet in his vicinity, and I think he knows.
Christopher’s eyes narrow, and I watch them unabashedly explore my every curve. I’m breathing heavily, and his eyes fixate on the rise and fall of my chest, before he finally meets my gaze.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, even as I’m letting him openly survey my nude body, even as I’m longing to throw myself into his arms once again.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmurs, and I think I might faint.
Me too, I think. Instead, I say, “But what if--what if my dad — ”
Christopher shakes his head, and, ever so slowly, so tenderly, runs his hand down the side of my face, my neck, and then to my breast. I shiver despite the warmth of his hands, and realize I’m nearly shaking with desire. “That little twerp you were going to fuck doesn’t deserve you,” he growls. “I’ll teach you what a real man does in bed.”
Then we’re kissing again, his fingers snaking through the curls of my hair, his other hand on my lower back, crushing me into him. He’s a full head taller than me, if not more, and I feel completely dwarfed by him--completely at his mercy. When he buries his head in the crook of my neck, nipping at the tender flesh of my throat, I moan so loudly that he hums a chuckle against my skin. I am already ready to be molded by him, like clay.
I know in this moment that I’ll do anything--anything--he wants.
As if reading my mind, Christopher suddenly removes his mouth from mine. I whine at the interruption, desperate for his kiss. But he only smirks, and then faster than I’m able to comprehend, sweeps me off my feet so that I’m being carried in his arms. I yelp and fling my arms around his neck.
“Don’t drop me!” I squeal, blushing. What if I’m too heavy for him?
He responds only by taking one, two, and then three long strides into my bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him, and laying me onto my bed.
I stare as he takes off his shirt, revealing rippling muscles beneath--his arms, his pecs, his abs, so perfectly defined, like he’s carved from marble. My breath comes hard and fast from my open mouth. How many times have I daydreamed about this moment, right here in this bed? How many times have I convinced myself that it would never become reality? And yet here he is, Christopher Maddox, in the flesh--increasingly in very little but the flesh.
The heat of his stare sets me on fire, and as he lies on top of me, I kiss him with escalating vigor. His full weight on mine feels almost comforting--far more so than Donnie’s gangly form. Everything about Christopher is a vast improvement over Donnie: his kiss, his touch, his tongue in my mouth, and--most exciting of all--the pressure of his erection against my thigh. When I notice it, I moan into Christopher’s mouth, growing dizzy with anticipated pleasure. Apparently, I have no trouble getting a real man hard.
“You feel that?” he mutters into my ear; I fling one arm over my head, and he grabs my wrist to keep it there, molding me further to his will. “You feel what you’re doing to me already?”
“Oh, my God, yes,” I gasp. I suddenly want nothing more than to see that cock--it feels huge, pressed against me. I want it inside--wherever he wants it.