Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I guide him between my legs, positioning the thick head of his cock at my entrance and holding it there as he lifts me into the air again. And then I’m pinned against the wall by more than his weight. He glides into me, stretching me enough to make me gasp.
It’s so good, so much better than it’s ever been with anyone else, and we’re one thrust in. By the time we’re finished, he’s going to own me—body and soul—even more than he does already.
“Okay?” he asks, pausing as he reaches the end of me, his equally feverish balls tight against my ass.
“Yes,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my forehead against his. “It’s just been so long. I almost forgot what it felt like. I forgot it was this good.”
“It’s never this good,” he says, making my heart flip in my chest. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever felt.” He pulls back and glides back in, summoning a groan from both our throats. He kisses me, smiling a little as he whispers against my lips, “You have to stop that or I’m going to come before I make you come again.”
“Stop what?” I ask, moaning as he circles his hips, grinding against my clit with his cock still buried deep inside me.
“Making noises,” he pants, beginning to move faster, stroking in and out of me with a slow, but demanding rhythm that makes my thighs tremble. “They’re too much. Too sexy.”
Bringing my lips to hover beside his ear, I ask, “Should I tell you that I love your cock instead? And that I can’t wait to feel you come inside me?”
His jaw clenches and his fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of my hips as he rides me harder, faster.
A second orgasm already curling in my belly, about to unleash its sweet fury, I add in a husky whisper, “Should I tell you that I’m not going to shower until tomorrow because I want to feel your come slipping out of me, making my panties wet all morning?”
He curses and pumps harder, reaching up to squeeze my breast with one hand as he says, “Say another word and I’m going to have to do something about that mouth.”
“Like what?” I ask, gasping as he pushes his fingers forcefully into my mouth and down my throat.
I groan and suck at his fingers, the second invasion enough to make me unravel all over again. I come moaning and writhing against his increasingly wild thrusts, doing my best not to bite his knuckles as the orgasm tears and twists and shreds at things inside me. It’s so intense it’s almost painful. The pleasure is so pure, so sweet, so exactly what I’ve craved from this man for so long.
But my fantasies are nothing compared to the reality of how insanely hot Barrett is as he sets me on my feet, spins me toward the wall, and reenters me from behind. Now his hands are on both of my breasts, squeezing and rubbing my nipples as he takes me hard. His breath is hot on my neck as he says, “One more time. One more, baby. Come on my cock one more time before I lose it. Fuck, Wren, I’m so close. I’m going to make a huge mess.”
It’s such a Barrett thing to say that it makes me smile and tease, “Oh, no. Not a big, hot come mess inside me. Whatever will I do?”
“Wicked,” he says, one hand dropping between my legs. He curls his fingers over my clit, holding tight as he continues to slam into me from behind. “You’re not a sweet little nurse. You’re a wicked woman who’s about to be so full of come she’ll think twice before she spreads her legs for me again.”
“Never. Oh God, Barrett. Oh my God, yes!” I cry out his name, again and again, my soul shaking this time as a third orgasm rampages through me.
Barrett shoves forward with a final groan and proves he’s a man of his word, coming and coming until the evidence of how good we are together runs down my thigh. Afterwards, we lean against the wall, panting and I instantly decide that the sound of our labored, post bliss breath is one of the best things I’ve ever heard.
But as another hot stream slithers down my thigh, I have to admit that he was right about the mess.
Turning to smile at him over my shoulder, I whisper, “I’m going to pop into the bathroom to clean up. I’ll bring you a damp washcloth.”
“All right,” Barrett says, pulling out and stepping back.
I lean into him, pressing a kiss to the small amount of skin visible at the top of his shirt. “Next time this is coming off,” I whisper. “Everything is coming off.”