Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Then he was reaching for me, turning me away from him.
His hand grabbed my shoulder as the other held his cock, sliding it between my lips, getting himself wet, then sliding back, and pressing.
Teasing, really.
Making me press back, writhe, whimper.
To no avail.
“Fuck me, Dav,” I begged, voice airy and desperate.
His cock pressed inward, just a bit, then back out.
I knew what game he was playing.
But I was too needy to give a fuck about my pride.
“Please.”
He surged inside me, taking me to the base in one hard thrust. If it weren’t for his hand on my shoulder, he would have sent me face-first into the wall.
“Fuck,” Dav hissed, pausing deep. “Fuck,” he added, voice softer, as his hand massaged my ass cheek. “I’ve missed your perfect fucking pussy, Cinna,” he said as he pulled back, then surged back in. And again. And again. Not as hard. Just slow and deep, making me take every thick inch of him each time.
It wasn’t long, though, before the need grew to a fever pitch in me, making me slam back into his thrusts.
Harder.
Faster.
When the orgasm coursed through me, intensified by the fullness of him, his hand slapped over my mouth, muffling my loud cries as the pulsations of pleasure racked my system.
But when I came back down, I found him still rock-hard inside of me.
“Been waiting weeks, love,” he said, using the hand over my mouth to pull my back against his chest as he slowly started to rock into me again, smaller, gentler motions. “I’m not done with you yet.”
His lips pressed into my neck, a sweet trail of kisses that made my belly flip-flop and that swooping sensation soaring through my chest.
One of his hands was around my hips, the other slid across my chest, holding me against him as he continued his gentle, unhurried strokes into me.
He was holding onto me like something precious, like he never wanted to let go.
It should have freaked me out, made me feel trapped, had me fighting to get away.
But I sank back into him, my head falling back onto his shoulder, eyes drifting closed, just letting myself have this moment, letting myself be held, letting him move inside of me in that soft, sweet way.
And as he drove me up slowly, I felt him again.
Seeping into my chest, spreading, filling me up.
“You feel so good, Cin,” he groaned in my ear as I tightened, as the pressure built, this deep clenching sensation before, almost in slow motion, the orgasm crested in slow, intense throbs of pleasure that had my legs shaking and a choked sob escaping me. “Just let go,” he murmured into my ear. “I’ve got you.”
Just for that moment, he did.
And I let him.
By the time the orgasm finally eased, I felt dampness in my eyes, so I squeezed them tight against, terrified the saltwater might break free and trail down my cheeks, evidence of the intensity of the feelings surging through me in that moment.
Fear, the likes of which I didn’t truly understand but felt the need to fight against, had me moving backward.
Dav obliged, walking us backward until he dropped his ass onto Renzo’s couch with me on his lap.
The only thing I could think to do was change the feeling of that moment. To reclaim this as something more primal, less emotional.
So I reached down, grabbing his knees to steady myself, and started to fuck him.
Hard.
Fast.
Desperate.
Familiar.
Physical.
Uncomplicated.
“Fuck, Cinna, I love how you ride my cock,” Dav groaned, his voice tight, his hands slipping under my shirt to grab my tits. “Fuck, that’s it,” he hissed as my moans grew, as my walls tightened. “Come around my cock, baby.”
And just like that, I did.
Hard.
Almost brutal.
Better, much better, I told myself, than the slow, deep, intense orgasm that made me tingly and emotional.
This time, Dav came with me, holding my hips against his lap, buried deep, as he hissed out my name as he climaxed.
His hands started to massage me after, always wanting to touch me.
And some part of me wanted to let him, wanted to lean back and feel his hands roam over me, stake a claim to me.
That was exactly why, though, I had to pull away.
I got to my feet, yanking my panties and pants back into place, and fumbling with my button and zipper before walking away to fetch my phone off of the desk.
“Thanks for the orgasms,” I said, tone a lot more flippant than I felt. “I hope you enjoyed it. Because it’s never going to happen again.”
I rushed to the door without looking back, scared that if I did, some part of me would run toward him, tell him that I didn’t mean it, that I didn’t understand what was going on, that I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wanting him, that I could feel him, even now, in my chest, that I never wanted to not feel him there.