Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 138904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“Suck. Please,” she requested sweetly, and his breath hitched. He drew her finger into his hot mouth and swept his tongue up and down its slender length. She thanked him politely before moving her moistened finger to her aching clit and giving it a light tap.
His intense gaze missed nothing, and he shuddered when she did that, as if he were the one who could feel it. “Fuck.”
His hands began to shake, and he was starting to fumble with the buttons, but he persevered. With each sliver of skin he bared, she stroked herself faster.
When he—at long last—managed to slip the last button out of its hole, her heels were digging into the mattress as she arched into her own frantic touch.
When he slid the expensive cotton off his broad shoulders, she took one look at all that magnificent muscled masculinity and screamed as she came.
He bent and captured her scream with his mouth, grinding himself against her aching clit, prolonging her orgasm, uncaring of her wetness against the expensive fabric of his pants. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and crossed her ankles over his taut, pistoning butt, wishing that thick hard shaft was buried inside of her.
She loved the feel of his smooth taut chest against hers and brought her arms up to squeeze him closer.
When the initial intense waves of her climax ebbed, she felt heavy and sleepy and limp.
“That was gorgeous.” His voice was a strangled whisper breathed into her hair. “No time for rest, honey. We’re not done yet.”
He untangled himself from her arms and legs and unbuckled his belt. She watched him through droopy eyes—he was magnificent. Taut, tanned, and tattooed. The tattoo on his left arm, extended up to his shoulder, over his left pectoral and parts of it licked over his collarbone and just brushed his neck. He had no other tattoos. Just the one magnificent piece that seemed to tell three different stories. She was too distracted to inspect it closely right now, and her eyes fell to his sexy, veiny hands, which were unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. Task done, he shoved his pants down past his hips, to his knees. He was still wearing his boots, and because he appeared to have no patience with removing them, the pants remained twisted around his ankles
Her eyes skimmed past that magnificent penis, over taut, beautifully muscled thighs, and then back to the star attraction.
“Can I touch? Please?”
“What do you want to touch?”
“Everything,” she whispered.
“Greedy,” he said, his voice warm with affection. “But I think…I think I’d rather touch you.”
She forgot her disappointment when he did just that. Touching, kissing, stroking. Reawakening the body—which had slumped into a satisfied snooze—with expert flicks and dabs. His tongue was everywhere, his teeth were employed in the most interesting places, but his fingers were the MVPs of the show. They could pinch, and tickle, and scratch, and thrust. They could edge her ever closer to the massive orgasm looming just on the horizon…there for the taking. If only he would permit her to grab hold of it.
But he would not allow that. He kept her on the brink, teasing and tormenting her, while keeping his erection completely out of the equation. It arched up between her legs, visibly throbbing, glistening with pre-cum, clearly unhappy not to be in play.
“Please, Ty. Please.” She was begging him, unashamedly pleading for release.
He had gone quiet again. He looked like a mad scientist at work, so focused was he on her body and what he was doing to it. Her voice seemed to startle him out of his trance, and his head jerked. He raised his eyes from her breasts to her face.
“Are you hurting, honey?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk. She nodded, on the verge of tears. “Do you want my cock?”
“Please, please…yes.”
He reached for the condoms, which he had placed on the bed next to her head. He winced when he sheathed himself and gave her a regretful look.
“I got a little carried away. I waited too long.”
She barely understood him anymore, and he made a soft dismayed sound.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m gonna make it stop hurting.”
He placed a hand on each knee and pushed them up toward her chest, spreading them wide before spearing his way into her weeping femininity. The relief was instant. She clenched tightly around that invading, welcome hardness. There was a heartbeat of stillness…broken by her gasp when she sucked in a harsh breath and came.
He held himself in place, not moving, allowing her to fall apart around him…her tear-filled eyes were on his face as he watched her, his face strained. Her eyes closed, shutting out the image of his stark expression as wave after wave of pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.
She was aware of him moving now, his thrusts hard and powerful. He released her knees—which splayed limply as he relentlessly fucked her. It was the only word she could think of to describe this. It was a primitive, savage, hard fucking, and she loved it. His elbows braced on the mattress, his palms cupped her face, and he kissed her. His tongue doing to her mouth, what his cock was doing to her body.