Right Guy Wrong Word Read Online Jewel E. Ann

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
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I peel off his shirt and take a moment to admire him—his mussed hair, taut abs, and open fly.

“Anna, you’re going to give me that mouth.”

With a sly grin, I gaze at him while discarding my shirt … and bra.

His hands curl into tight fists at his side when I step toward him, pressing my lips to his sternum. “I’ll give you nothing until I’m ready,” I say, gazing up at him.

He grips my jaw with one hand, his face soft and relaxed while his thumb slides along my lips. “That’s my line, Anna.” That playful sparkle in his eyes transforms into something wicked, sending a chill along my skin, two seconds before he shoves me onto the bed. I laugh, but it evaporates when he slides off his jeans and briefs in one smooth motion. I don’t even pretend not to stare at his erection bobbing like a heavy spring while he retrieves a condom from his nightstand and rolls it on.

Eric displays too much patience ridding me of the rest of my clothes. He kisses my ankle, leg, knee, and inner thigh. I spread my legs an inch or two. Each breath that passes my lips sounds a little more ragged.

Kiss me there. Kiss me there. KISS ME THERE!

I grab his hair. He chuckles, biting the skin along my hip, entirely skipping a particular area.

“Eric …” I try to force him to go in reverse.

“I’ll give you nothing … until I’m ready.”

“Bastard,” I whisper. “Ouch!”

He bites my nipple. “Try again.” His tongue laps over it once before his lips creep up my neck.

“You’re evil.” I narrow my eyes and then jerk my head when he goes for my lips again.

His hand slides between my legs, burying two fingers inside me, sending my back arching off the bed as I gasp. He withdraws his fingers and pushes his erection between my legs, filling me in one hard thrust.

It’s nice. Really nice. I-can’t-breathe nice.

I lift to meet him, but he angles just enough to keep me from feeling one ounce of friction while he sets a steady pace.

While he sucks my nipples and teases them with his teeth.

While he gives up on trying to kiss me.

While his hand hooks my leg and lifts it toward my chest, sending him deeper.

Touch me. Touch me lower. Kiss me. Kiss me lower.

I have a clit. How can he ignore it? My clit will not be ignored!

My lips need his. My tongue keeps wetting them, readying them.

“Kiss me …”

“I’m good.” His face tenses as he speeds up his pace.

I attempt to wriggle beneath him, to find friction. He’s the worst.

The. Worst.

I’m not suggesting every man I’ve had sex with has been an expert with the female anatomy, but they’ve attempted (even if it was inaccurate and clumsy) to find that magical little nub.

How can one guy have so much physical appeal and potential and waste it by being bad at sex? This is why I don’t screw men who live in my building. From now until the time that one of us moves out, it will be awkward. He will see me and smile like he’s all that, but I’ll know the truth. And the most I will be able to offer him is a cringe before averting my gaze and running in the opposite direction.

“Fuck!” I wince. “Stop biting my nip—”

Oh. Sweet. Baby. Zebras …

Eric kisses me like God stopped by and gave him a tutorial on kissing a woman. At least, I assume God would be good at kissing. Things to think about later …

My fingers claim his hair because I will physically harm him if he stops kissing me. Eric engulfs every inch of me with his body, bringing all of my senses to life as his hips prove they know about the special little clit. He hits it just right every time.

“Eric … Fucking … Steinmann!” My mouth rips from his, my head lulling to the side while I claw the mattress with one hand and his hair with my other hand.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, head buried in my neck, his rigid body incrementally relaxing on top of mine.

I can’t argue. Nope. Not at all. He earned it. Man … did he ever earn it.

After a few moments, he rolls us to our sides and grins while his gaze skates along my face, and he tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. I barely catch my breath, and he kisses me. It’s lazy yet deliberate. I fucking love kissing this man. Nothing makes me feel more desired than a slow kiss. I’ve never made out with a guy like this after sex. His hand presses to my cheek, tongue sliding against mine. Then that hand glides down my neck to my chest, where the pad of his thumb circles my nipple. And we do this for a while. Unrushed. Legs intertwined. Breaths mingling.


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