Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“It’s alright. I understand and as much as I might want to, I won’t take advantage of the situation. You have my word.”
“Thank you,” I say even though every cell in my body is crying out, demanding I let him take advantage of the situation—and of me.
“I ain’t going to lie though—you’re a damn good kisser.”
I clap my hands over my mouth as a flustered laugh bursts from my throat. Dawson gives me a wink and closes the door of the SUV.
3
DAWSON
Stiff and sore and with a hard-on stiffer than I’ve had in I don’t even know how long, I roll off the couch and stretch out.
It’s not the most comfortable thing to sleep on but I surrendered my bedroom to Devon when we got back here last night. She had misgivings about coming back to my place, of course, and I had to reassure her that I had no nefarious intentions. As much as I wish she would have thrown caution to the wind and her panties at me along with it, I behaved like an honorable gentleman.
That kiss… I dreamed about that the entire night. Which is why I woke up with the kind of hard-on I haven’t had since puberty. Her warm breath in my mouth, the velvety feel of her tongue on mine, her soft, supple body in my hands, those full, round tits pressed to my chest. It was almost impossible to keep from coming in my pants right then and there. By some miracle, I managed to keep from making a mess of myself.
But it came at a price. I spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch, fantasizing about the thousand different ways I would take Devon. Fantasizing about all the things I would do to her and the things I would make her do. I imagined the feel of her body. Imagined the sweet scent of her musk and the taste of her on my lips. Thinking about all that had me in the shower jerking off last night just to relieve the pressure. Twice.
Giving myself a shake, I walk into the kitchen and pull the bottle of orange juice out of the refrigerator. I twist off the top and toss it on the counter then take a long swallow.
“Good morning.”
I manage to avoid choking on the orange juice and turn to see Devon standing in the kitchen archway and have to quickly think of something mundane to keep from getting a hard-on right in front of her.
She's wearing one of my T-shirts—that she’s swimming in—and a pair of socks. And that's it as far as I can tell. I'm sure she's wearing panties under the t-shirt, of course, but the image she presents me with her tousled hair and bleary smile smacks of innocence that turns me on in so many ways. Turns me almost feral.
All I can think about is sitting her up on the counter, spreading her pale thighs, and driving myself into her hot, sweet hole as hard as I possibly can until I fill her with my seed.
I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair, trying to purify my thoughts as quickly as I can. Devon steps forward and takes the bottle out of my hand.
“You mind?” she asks.
“Have at it.”
She takes a long swallow of juice, and my eyes travel the curve of her neck, moving down to the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt, then further down still to her shapely, toned legs. For being such a tiny little thing, she’s got remarkably long legs. And as I stare at them, all I can think about is having them wrapped around the back of my head and my tongue deep in that sweet, wet cleft between them.
“Thank you.” She hands the bottle back to me.
“You’re welcome,” I reply and take another drink before setting it down on the counter.
We stand there staring at one another in an awkward silence for a couple of moments. It feels like that strained morning-after tension—but without the benefit of having had the night before. Devon looks down and laughs to herself, breaking that tension.
I give her a smile. “Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.”
“Good,” I say. “Go get dressed and all while I make us some breakfast.”
“You’re going to cook?”
“I am a man of many talents.”
She grins. “Color me skeptical. But I suppose we’ll see.”
Devon walks out of the kitchen, leaving me to my own devices. Admittedly, I’m never going to have my own show on Food Network but I’m not half bad. So, I decide on an omelet and collect everything I need from the refrigerator.
“I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay,” Devon calls from the back of the condo.
“Go ahead. Mi casa es su casa,” I call back.
While she showers, I make breakfast. By the time she’s done, dressed, and sitting at the table, I’ve got it all laid out.