Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
All the orgasms I can handle.
And even more of the ones I can’t.
Wes’s fingers roughly dig into the globes of my ass as he spreads it wide for the taking. His tongue rolls around the freshly washed tiny hole, violently thrusting the tip past the instinctual resistance, demanding it accept his brutal invasion.
Light whimpers swiftly shift into deeper sighs of satisfaction that have me arching forward towards his bent legs.
Needily clawing until it gets him groaning.
Spanking.
One cheek.
The other.
Having his tongue smoothly slide downward to slip inside my pussy instantly crumples my frame further towards the couch due to the trembles becoming too overpowering not to succumb to.
“Wes,” floats off my tongue during my first rock back into the rapacious lashing. “More.”
Unbalanced and even more unpredictable whirls of his wet muscle wildly whip around the bare area, spreading the scorching, sticky juices onto his cheeks and his nose and his chin, bathing what was his recently washed face in my seemingly ceaseless sexual content.
More moans of approval prepare to grace our ears when his efforts abruptly transition back to my ass where he savagely swipes.
Sucks.
Swipes.
Stabs.
Swipes and skates his tongue the short distance inside my pussy yet again.
An unabated oscillation between the two areas effortlessly begins, starting with agonizingly slow licking, the type that leaves me no choice but to whine for more.
Wordlessly beg by wiggling my hips.
Grinding myself against his unhurriedly moving muscle.
“More,” I unhappily pout hoping it’ll increase his celerity.
Inspire new actions.
Unbearable licking unfortunately becomes unbearable lapping due to it being delivered at the exact same tortuously slow speed and accompanied by shiver worthy grumbles against my clit.
This is the only thing that makes the man I married a monster.
No one should enjoy controlling someone else’s orgasm this much.
“Wesssss…” seeps past my lips as I toss a scowl over my shoulder. “More.”
His response is growled against my lower lips, “Manners.”
“Please.” There’s no reluctance or shame in my pleading. “Please, give me more, Wes.”
“How.” A tiny nip is taken of my drenched thigh. “Much.” Another from the opposite side. “More?” One toe curling lick is trailed from one entrance to the other where it then salaciously teases and taunts the taut hole.
“Allofit,” thoughtlessly rushes out prior to my head dazedly dropping forward. “Give me all of it, please.”
Barbarously gripping my ass cheeks is attached to a deep, guttural grumble, “Fucking sit on my cock, Little Prey.”
What type of selfish twat waffle wife would I be if I didn’t do what I was told at this very moment?!
Getting off his mouth and onto his dick occurs in what feels like a single blink.
I don’t waste time easing down.
Or dragging out the spine-tingling sensation that is sparked during my descent.
No.
I voraciously slam down, clit brushing so delectable with his balls, that I’m instantly tempted to do it again.
And again.
And again.
Yet before I can continue the cycle past the initial caresses, Wes is sitting up.
Curling his hand on my shoulders.
Yanking me into each primitive pound as he grunts and growls.
Growls and groans.
Groans and bucks and fucks and until my incessant panting ceases courtesy of my inability to catch a breath, to have a single thought that isn’t me jerking my ass into his deliciously frantic thrusting.
Our hasty, headless heaving creates a concupiscent concert of slapping skin, dripping juices spreading, and inhuman howls that would probably have security wishing they were allowed earplugs while on duty.
Tingling in my toes precedes the tightening in my calves and thighs all clear indications of what’s coming.
Warnings of the orgasm I’m by no means trying to fend off.
Thick, torrid torrents abruptly begin deep inside igniting my own heavenly rushes that immediately race to fuse with his, an action made even easier when he possessively winds his arms around my torso, trapping us together on a gluttonous growled, “Take that shit, Little Prey.” Additional twitches of his cock have my pussy greedily gormandizing the latest little bursts. “Every. Last. Fucking. Drop.”
We shudder through the aftershocks together, yet it’s me that gasps when his teeth sink into my shoulder blade.
And me that sighs when his lips skirt across the bite.
And me that moans the instant I feel his shaft stirring for a second round still inside me.
“Again,” Wes airily declares, mouth impatiently inching its way towards mine. “I wanna come inside you again.” He tugs my face towards his by my earlobe. “I need to.”
Familiar chiming from his nearby tablet sadly doesn’t leave time to even consider the notion. “Looks like we need to cover up.”
He reaches the nearest throw blanket while I grab my abandoned robe that’s been balled up under the coffee table for some unknown stretch of time.
Time’s already a concept I’m not great with.
Being locked behind closed doors for the past week where we can snack and fuck and binge to our heart’s content didn’t exactly help.
Answering Clark’s video chat is done the second my tits are respectfully out of view.