Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“Deeper,” I say into a tiny moan, staring at his hand against my pussy. My well-lit room is giving me an epic view of this exploration, and I’m all for it.
He’s knuckle-deep in me. “You gonna stop clenching?”
“Maybe…not.”
He grins, but his breath shallows in pleasure. “You’re too fucking tight and swollen. Unclench and I’ll go deeper.”
“I’m not that tight,” I argue in a carnal haze.
“Give me your finger.” He reaches over my body with his right hand and clasps my index finger. He squeezes it with a good amount of force. “That’s what your pussy feels like. Only warmer. And wetter.” Can he always describe sexual acts to me?
I just nod. Keep going, please.
He’s grinning. “That turn you on?”
“Uh-huh.”
He releases my hand, but I almost grab for him to stay. He leans back against the pillows. His left hand is still cupped against my pussy. It’s the sexual leisure of it all that does me in.
Then he moves his finger. A come hither motion? Whatever he does, it instantly arches my hips and pricks my nerve-endings. “Fuckfuck,” I cry, inhaling sharply.
He pauses, letting me catch my breath.
Holy shit…I never want this to stop. I want his hand to live right there. “Three fingers,” I pant.
“Let’s start with two.”
I let out a puff of air. “Why?” I frown. “Your cock is bigger than three, and I’ve taken that before.”
“It’s been a while. We’re gonna start with two,” he rasps, voice husky, and I’m captivated at his insistence to safeguard every piece of me. It’s doubly attractive and causes me to buck my hips into his one finger.
He smiles back at me. “Let me put in another one before you start thrusting.”
“I’m not going to thrust.”
“Your hips are lying to you then.”
I laugh under my breath and those laughs morph into a moan when I feel finger number two. Oh wow, oh my God. I snap my eyes closed.
“This hurt?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper under a heavy breath. “It feels amazing. I want more, but I also want it to last forever.”
“Know that feeling well.”
Without looking—because if I have the sexy visual, I might come and this’ll all be over—I reach between my legs and grab hold of Donnelly’s wrist. The heel of his palm is flush up against my clit. I try to push his hand harder, wanting more.
Please.
“I’m already as deep as I can go, babe,” he tells me, and then he starts pumping his fingers.
I tremble. “Waitwait,” I breathe out and open my eyes.
He immediately stops. His muscles contract, but I make a concerted effort not to take a glimpse at his fingers inside of me.
“Can you…?” I lose sight of the words, uncertain about them. “I love this, and…can you…?”
“Just tell me what you want, Luna,” he says, sweeping my face. “I’m not gonna judge you.” He hasn’t so far. Even the one tiny hiccup where I learned he won’t have sex with me while I’m dead-asleep, he didn’t look weirded out, just concerned. Everyone has likes and dislikes, and I really love discovering more of his, too.
“Can you sketch?” I ask. “But while your fingers are inside me?”
With a rising smile, he kisses the edge of my eyelid, then bends his leg. He props the notebook on his thigh, and using his right hand, he draws while his left hand pleasures me. His fingers pump inside. Long, delirious strokes. OhmyGod.
OhmyGod.
His fingers understand my pussy, what I like already, but I’m watching his face more than his hand.
He zones into the sketch, and it’s right now that I discover that Paul Donnelly is a fantastic multi-tasker. He sketches beauty with one hand and makes art out of the other. I feel like a masterpiece under his touch.
His thumb circles my clit, and I cry out. He does that more than once.
And his eyes hit mine, and he takes in how I’m watching him. It is him. All of him. That drives me to an edge. His abs flex, and he grips his pen a little tighter, like he’s forcing himself not to roll on top of me.
Donnelly returns to the sketch, but his fingers create hotter friction in me. He’s teasing a sensitive spot inside me—it’s mind-blowing. OhmyGodOhmyGod. My toes curl.
“I’mgoingtocome.” It rushes together. I dizzy. All the pooled arousal that’d been amassing from earlier tonight has catapulted to a treacherous peak. I pretend this is what we do together. Every leisure day. In the living room of our own little house.
I sit on the couch beside Donnelly, and he fingers me while he sketches. He turns the everyday mundane into fireworks and explosions between my legs.
I’m so wet, his fingers make a loud squishing noise. He doesn’t make fun of it. One more caress in me, and my hips buck into his hand. “Donnelly.” I pulsate around him. Moaning, I turn my face into the pillow.