Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Treasure,” he breathes out. “We can’t; you’re sore,” he says, as if he wants to stop, but I can tell from the pain in his voice and the soft but firm grip he has on me that he doesn't want to. His cock jerks in my hand, begging me to continue.
“You don’t have to put it in me.” I didn’t mean for the words to sound dirty. With his hard cock in my hand, I feel sexy, wanton and oddly powerful as I stand in front of the biggest and likely the strongest man I’ve ever met in my life. He makes me feel that way.
“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips press forward, jacking himself off some with the motion. His cock slides through my hand.
“I can lick you like you licked me.”
“I don’t know, maybe…” He trails off as I fall to my knees in front of him. He stares down at me, wide eyed for a moment. I swear he almost doesn't think I’m real. It isn't until I start to stroke him that he comes back to reality. I can see the lust in his eyes as he stares down at me with my mouth only inches from his cock. I quickly stick my tongue out and lick the tip of his cock as I stare up at his face.
He reaches down and strokes my cheek with his thumb for a moment. “Open up,” he commands as his thumb slides down my jaw to my chin.
I open wide, doing as he commands, hoping I can give him the same pleasure as he gave me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I do know I don’t have to be perfect. My Tank will be happy with anything I give him because he only wants me.
13
Tank
I’m moving blowjobs up on my list of favorite sex things. It’s definitely in the top three, although I don’t know what position I’m moving down the ladder. Maybe doggy-style? Because the tongue action that Erika just served is mind blowing. Her tongue and mouth deserve an award. Maybe a Nobel Peace Prize or something small like that.
We swing by her dorm room so she can change. I would’ve liked it if she wore my clothes, but when we tried that my damn shirt kept sliding off her shoulder. It was distracting. The hall monitor’s desk is empty and more than a few guys are sneaking out.
I frown. “I thought there were no men in the dorm?”
Erika appears surprised. “I thought so, too.”
I put a protective arm around her and glare at the boys leaving. “You need a new hall monitor.”
“Weren’t you upset when she wouldn’t let you in?”
“That’s different,” I grumble.
One guy stumbles toward us, his breath stinking of day-old brew and his shirt only half buttoned and his jeans halfway down his ass. I swing Erika out of the way and give the old boy a shove. “Watch where you’re going.” I glare.
“Fuck off, man,” the drunk retorts. Too bombed to realize what he’s doing, the boy comes up swinging. I slide to the left, stick out my foot and the guy slams face first on the floor. Behind the desk, a head pops up.
“What happened?” the bleary-eyed hall monitor asks.
“Some trash spilled in the entry,” Erika says. “Tank, let’s go before we get too dirty.”
She tucks her hand in mine and hauls me to the elevator bank. “Do you think we should check on him?” She looks over at the figure on the floor. The boy hasn’t moved.
“No.” He tried to breathe funny in Erika’s presence. In my opinion, falling on his face is mild compared to what could have happened to him. Instead of the floor greeting him, it could’ve been my fist.
I hustle Erika into the elevator and press the third-floor button. All these dicks around at night worries me. Maybe I’ll get one of the younger guys at the gym to come work the nightshift.
“I’ll be right back,” Erika says, dipping into her dorm room. I only get a quick look at it before the door’s shut in my face. The room appears small, but tidy—kind of like Erika herself.
She doesn’t take long. In a hot second, she’s out in new leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. A bag is slung across her body. I check my watch. “We have enough time to pick up some breakfast.”
“Wasn’t that what the ice cream was for?”
I fold her hand in mine. “Nah. That was like a pre-breakfast.”
Her hair is up again in that thick knot. Having seen all of it last night, I’m wondering how she gets that mass into one small circle. I did watch a few braiding tutorials on YouTube but didn’t come across one that was like this. Guess I’ll have to expand my viewing playlist.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks quietly as we head down the hall toward the elevator.