Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
There were probably park rangers and patrol cars to worry about but you know, with my ass out and my cheeks spread apart as per Jean-Claude’s instructions, I didn’t have the brain cells to worry about anything other than getting his dick in me.
I stroked myself as he lubed up his fingers and patiently stretched me open. He held a condom in silent question. Yay or nay? I shook my head and braced one hand on the hatch door. A moment later, he pressed his cock at my entrance and pushed his way inside.
He nuzzled my neck, his arms wrapped around me tight, and just…breathed. I must have been quite a sight, impaled on his cock with my jeans pooled at my ankles. I’d unzipped my jacket so he could reach my nipples. He knew I liked it when he tweaked them as he bit my shoulder, and whispered dirty promises about how hard and fast he was going to ride me.
And he didn’t disappoint. He bucked his hips double time, slamming into me over and over again. The frenetic pace was a wild contrast to our peaceful surroundings. The gentle roll of the lake current and the melodic hoot of a nearby owl and our carnal grunts as I met him thrust for thrust.
“More. Fuck, yes. That’s it,” I panted.
He dug his fingernails into my skin and licked my earlobe. “I’m going to come inside you. You want that?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me. Say it.”
“Come in my ass,” I moaned. And he did. I could feel him pulse and explode deep inside me, and it triggered an avalanche-sized orgasm. “Oh, fuck. I’m—ungh!”
Jean-Claude held me tightly as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through me, leaving me limp and breathless, and so perfectly…sated.
We cleaned up as best we could with the napkins he’d found in his console, grinning like pirates as we buttoned up, rezipped, and headed to Elmwood. We sang along to a classic rock station in between random conversations about topics like: What’s your favorite number? Did you grow up with pets? If you could have any wild animal as a pet, what would it be? Weird answers only.
We’d each grown up with dogs and wanted to own one in the future.
“A trip to the local shelter will be the first thing on my list when I retire,” I announced. “And for my-wild-animal-it’ll-never-happen pet, I choose a hippo.”
“A hippopotamus? Why? They’re not cute or fierce. Do they do anything special?”
“I think they’re kinda cute. And I have no idea what the fuck they do. It was just the first outlandish animal that popped into my mind. They’re huge and they like to chill out in water. That’s all I know. What’s yours?” I asked as the steeple for St. Finbarr’s came into view.
“A baboon. They’re aggressive for no particular reason and their asses are always out, ready to moon my foes at my command. I’ll name him Bartholomew and call him Bart.”
“You win. That’s ridiculous.” I snorted. “Favorite number. No, wait. Let me guess…”
“Sixty-nine,” we said in unison, bursting into laughter.
Nope. It wasn’t particularly funny, but it was fun.
He was fun…and silly and sexy. And he fucking rocked my world. I felt lighthearted and centered in a way I never did off the ice.
It was almost cruel that this—whatever we were doing…would end soon. I’d be gone in less than a month, and he might not even be in Elmwood when I returned next summer for the youth hockey camp—assuming Vin wanted my help.
I didn’t want to future-trip, though. I simply wanted to revel in the moment—the deep rumble of his voice, his smiling eyes, his casual grip on the steering wheel, the faint melody playing in the background, and streetlights lining Main Street as we drove into town.
I ran my fingers along the seam of my jeans, wiggling to relieve my aching ass. I was sore all over from being stretched and filled. I could feel his cum inside me and something told me that should have grossed me out, but it didn’t. Not even a little bit. I wanted to do it all over again, stat, so I could feel him all day tomorrow and the next day…and the next.
Was I greedy? Yes, definitely. I couldn’t help it.
I hated knowing that none of this was meant to last.
“How are you feeling?”
I leaned against my kitchen counter and gulped my orange juice in a hurry before answering my sister. “Great. I haven’t had a headache in three days, and my last one went away with basic ibuprofen. My eyes aren’t as sensitive to light as they were either. I haven’t tested my vision in a fully illuminated rink yet, but I’m getting there.”
“That’s great news. I’m glad to hear it,” Tara gushed. “But I hate that you missed Thanksgiving. Mom and Dad were heartsick they didn’t see you.”