Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Her small shorts were barely in the way but they were, and that made them an inconvenience he needed to rectify. He pushed two fingers up the leg and skimmed her soft skin until he reached the edge of the thong she wore.
“Christ,” he rasped. “A thong?” He flicked his tongue along her skin, taking in the sweet taste of her along with the hint of sweat. “What color is it?” He nipped her again.
“Yellow.” The single word was gasped. “Bright. Cheery. And it’s a G-string, less material than—”
“Soaked,” he interrupted as his cock jumped at her words. “You’re fucking soaked.”
He curved his fingers around the waist of her barely-there panties. The thin string holding them up stretched as he pulled, knowing it dug into skin. Livingston didn’t stop, just stretched as she released another gasp then flicked his wrist, snapping the band, then drawing the torn thong out from her shorts and letting it fall to the floor.
Her small but strong hands released his hair as she skimmed them down his shoulders before digging her nails into the flesh of his upper arms.
“Yes?” He angled his head so his one-worded question fanned along her lips.
“I want skin.”
The last thing he wanted to do was lean away from her, but he wanted skin on skin as well. So he moved back. And when there was space between their torsos, he reached one arm over the back of his head, gripping the neck of his shirt.
Holy shit, her eyes smoldered as she watched him remove it with one pull. He dropped it on the floor next to her thong, or rather, what remained of it. She chewed on her lower lip as she touched him, sending a tremor through him.
She ground against his body, the thin material of her tiny shorts not doing a damn thing to contain her heat as she squirmed against his cock. Daisy spread her fingers as she stroked his chest, petting him, learning his body once more. Livingston couldn’t help the way his body twitched or the grunts he emitted when she dragged her nails over his pec followed by his nipple.
He allowed her exploration, managing to hold onto his control as she indulged in touching his skin. Until she hit the low set of muscles around his hips. He snapped out, his hand imprisoning her wrist. While his hold was immoveable, he ensured to keep his touch gentle, rubbing his thumb along her skin.
“I want skin.” She reiterated her earlier statement.
“Me too. But you can’t touch me yet, Peach. Not there. I’m not fucking strong enough for that. Not after all this time.”
His honest admission shocked him but he didn’t try to take it back. Daisy crossed her arms and grasped the hem of her shirt. He found himself holding his breath as she took off her top, leaving him staring at her bare chest. Fuck, she’d not been wearing a bra. Knowing that fact and seeing that fact were two different things.
Small pert breasts with taut, chocolate-hued nipples drew his gaze. He wanted them back in his mouth. But he wanted it while his cock drove deep, making her clench around him and scream his name.
I’m not leaving this room until I get that.
Even then, he may not be leaving.
He could see the goosebumps on her skin and, sliding a hand around to settle upon her ass, giving her a bit more support, he freed himself from his workout pants, grateful to be going commando. His dick sprang free and her gaze snapped down to it between her legs.
Livingston fisted himself and tapped it along her core, loving the hitches in her voice with each bump.
“Move your shorts.”
She didn’t make him repeat his command, just reached between them and exposed herself to him by tugging the soft material off to the left. Staring at her, bare, glistening with proof of her desire, he sank his teeth into his lip.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
His cock throbbed in his grip and he tightened his fist on the base. Drops of precum beaded up and rolled over the large head.
“Three months and seventeen days.”
“What?” Her brow furrowed. “What’s three months and seventeen days?”
He skimmed the head over her lips then notched it at the opening.
“The time since I’ve been inside this pussy. If you want I can give you hours and minutes. But what I can’t do is wait any longer to be back inside you.” He bucked his hips and drove home, sinking completely inside the molten heat he craved so much.
Livingston stepped closer, sliding her up the window behind her. He loved how she tightened her legs around him, keeping his cock deep in her pussy.
“Hang on.” That was the only warning he gave her.
There was no more control. No finesse. He was purely raw and animalistic in his hunger.