Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I’d waited years for anything to feel this right, and now that I was here, I was going to kiss Jonas as long as humanly possible. In fact, if there were any kissing records, I was down for breaking every last one. The sun could come up, and I’d still be happily kissing him.
As Jonas’s tongue retreated, I followed it, exploring his mouth, thrusting my tongue against his until he released a groan that had a pained edge.
“Am I doing this correctly?” I asked, rubbing our cheeks together. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Trust me, you’re killing me, but I’m hardly in pain.” Jonas chuckled, holding me close in a way that made me feel more content than I could ever remember. “And there’s a wrong way to kiss? News to me.”
“I dunno. I always feel clumsy,” I whispered my confession into his neck. “More than one ex said I’m a bad kisser.”
Jonas made a rude noise. “Screw them.”
“They might be right.” I shrugged. “Before this, kissing always felt like I was missing some key ingredient that would make it feel…better. More spectacular. More like the movies and stuff. But this feels way different.”
“Think you found the right ingredients?”
Or the right person. That thought was far too big and scary, so I said nothing. Instead, I kissed him like my life depended on it, like this was the last-chance qualifier for the championship round. And amazingly, wonderfully, Jonas returned my enthusiasm, meeting me kiss for kiss. Far from complaining when I clutched his shoulder and back, he held me every bit as tightly.
Being squashed against another person had never felt so good. And that it was Jonas made it even better. The kissing and touching were almost too much, too good, yet not nearly enough. My hips started to rock, cock pushing into Jonas’s erection. I was hard for him, so hard. He matched my motion, and I made a delighted moan.
Panting, he broke the kiss. “We should—”
I cut him off with a frustrated noise. “Don’t say stop. Please. I don’t wanna stop.”
I tilted my head, trying to earn more kisses, doing everything short of batting my eyes to keep this thing going. Where exactly we were going was as dangerous a question as what was happening next, so I focused on the present moment. More kisses. More touches. More.
“God, you’re convincing.” Jonas followed my unspoken demand and kissed me. We’d kissed so long that my lips were hypersensitive. Tomorrow, they’d likely be chapped, but that was more of the future thinking I wanted to avoid.
I kissed him back, wanting to imprint myself on him as well, wanting him to know my taste and smell, to feel me every time he smiled or moved his kiss-swollen lips. I hoped I made him feel even a fraction of the pleasure coursing through me. I delved deeply with my tongue against his, starting a rhythm that matched our grinding. A silent beat seemed to thrum between us, urging us on.
“More. I need more.” I moaned, not entirely certain what I was asking for, but needing something, some relief from the growing pressure in my balls and tension in my muscles. My whole body was rigid with anticipation. “Jonas. Please. I need…”
“I know.” He made a soothing sound as he kissed my ears and neck. He skated a hand down my torso, hovering right above my aching cock. “You want me to touch you?”
“Yes, yes. That.” I thrust my hips upward to meet his hand, and when he pulled my waistband down, my cock sprang into his palm with embarrassing eagerness. He’d barely grasped it when my back bowed. I wasn’t sure I could survive a single stroke from his strong grip. “Holy fuck. Gonna…”
And then he did stroke, and I did come, and it was all over in a matter of seconds.
But those few seconds lasted a lifetime, not unlike a bomb detonating or a bike crash, time slowing and distorting, shock waves of pleasure spreading out from my pulsing dick. My throat was raw, my skin clammy, and I shook like a leaf even after my cock was done erupting all over Jonas’s fist and my stomach.
“Okay, that was fast.” I attempted a laugh, but it came out as shaky as the rest of me.
“You needed it.” Jonas stroked my hair with his other hand and kissed my forehead. “Don’t ever let someone say you’re a bad kisser again.”
“What do I do for you now?” I rolled more toward him. I might be epically bad at sex, but even I knew both people were supposed to come. Running a hand down his shirt, I offered a tentative smile, but he captured my hand before I could reach his jeans.
“Nothing.” He squeezed my hand and lifted it to his mouth for a brief kiss before releasing it and me. Moving away, he sat up. “That was for you. I’m good, promise.”