Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“Goddamn, I’d love to stuff a finger in this mini fuck hole,” he grits out against my core, his fingertips digging into my thighs hard. “Bet you’d shake like a leaf.”
I babble in response.
I’m seeing nothing. All I can feel is this encroaching pleasure that is wider and faster and more hazardous than a category five tornado. He’s back to feasting on me and my legs are wrapped around his head, his grunts and moans vibrating all the way to my spine and I let go. I scream behind my teeth and let myself fly into a place I’ve never been. A place where my loins tremble and lust reaches a breaking point, sending me high, then crashing back down. And all I can do is whine his name and writhe on his lapping tongue, his granite mouth as he continues to rake his tongue up and back in my dampening flesh, jiggling the tip at my entrance and setting off a whole new series of explosions.
After I’ve worked my way to the other side of the mountainous pleasure, I just sort of collapse. I think I lose consciousness because when I wake up again, Walt is carrying me to the bed and laying me down among the cool sheets. With an expression that can’t be anything less than adoring, I watch him tap a finger against my sex.
“Did Daddy take good care of this?” he rumbles.
“Yes,” I whisper, replete and aching at the same time. Aching for him to hold me, stay with me, take care of me. “Don’t go.”
His eyelids momentarily drop to cover his eyes. “If I get into that bed and hold you, Coco, it will ruin me. I’ll never be able to do the right thing.”
After a long, visibly tortured hesitation, he turns and strides for the adjoining door.
I fall into a deep sleep wondering what he means by the right thing.
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know if it means he leaves me after the experience we just shared. After I’ve fallen for Walt. Hard.
4
Walt
I wave to my granddaughter from the other side of the hotel bar. When she smiles and sends me a flurry of fingers in return, I’m swamped by guilt. She has no idea I just dry fucked her best friend up on the tenth floor. Hell, I could barely bring myself to wipe her come off my chin and I have the nerve to wave at Wanda? I should be locked up. Behind bars.
Especially because I want to do it again.
And again.
The bartender slides a glass in front of me, accompanied by a bottle of scotch. I must look like I need a stiff drink—and I do. I slosh two fingers of liquor into the glass and toss it back, immediately regretting the action because it washes away some of her taste.
I shove the glass aside and rake my hands down my face. Of course, Coco’s room had to be joined with mine. The temptation is going to flat out kill me. I’ve been on this earth sixty-three years and I’ve had my fair share of women, but I’ve never, ever had one that compared to Coco. The fragile innocence of her, the way she seems incapable of being anything but purely honest with me, confessing secrets like she can’t help it. Down deep in my belly, I sense this behavior from her is only for me and it makes me possessive. Makes me burn.
Yeah, she’s special as hell, all right. Bright and sweet and magnetic.
And her pussy.
Sitting her in this packed bar, surrounded by family members, I feel like a fucking lecher remembering the way she parted for my tongue, smooth and sugary. Those ripe little peaches she calls tits, all puckered nipples and tan lines. Even her dark hair spread out on the carpet was sensual. She’s built to be ridden wet and often…and I might as well face it, I’d fucking love to be that man. But men my age can’t just go around dating college-aged women. It can only end badly. Maybe she has some daddy issues that she needs to work through, and she’d be sick of me in a few months. Or maybe my family would be disgusted and disown me. Either way, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.
Across the bar, I catch of my smiling son picking his way toward me through the crowd and the guilt storms back into my chest. I’m supposed to be here reconnecting with my neglected family and here I am chasing pussy a third of my age.
Get your head out of your ass, General.
“Father.” My son, Chris, gives me a hesitant hug and pulls back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Wanda said you’d arrived, but I couldn’t find you until now.”
“Sorry about that. Just catching some shut-eye in my room.”