Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Thank you, curse.
I love the salty, manly taste of him on my tongue, and I love how my jaw aches when I open my mouth wide enough to take him. I have no illusions that I’m going to get him to the back of my throat or do anything dirty like that. For one, his dick is like fourteen feet long, so not going to happen. But I do what I can, using my mouth and tongue, wrapping my hand around the rest of him, and pumping in time to his gentle thrusts.
“God…” he groans. “This is going to…this is not what I had in mind for a dummy round.”
For obvious reasons, I say nothing. Instead, I keep going, working his dick, and I think my hips might be pumping in time with his now. In my mind, they are, since the ache between my legs is so furious that it feels like my ovaries are in my throat, and my lady cave is trying to turn completely inside out.
Ash’s hands tangle in my hair, but he doesn’t slam my face into him or thrust brutally into my mouth. He’s nice about it, guiding me gently, and I take as much as I can before I pull back. I let my tongue stroke and caress him.
“This is…I’m not going to do this,” Ash protests. “You don’t want me to do that.”
I pull back, using my hand to keep up the rhythm. Ash’s head falls back, and he lets out another long moan. “Don’t I?” I murmur.
“I…no. I can’t do that. Maybe next time.” He guides my face away, and suddenly, he’s all coordinated again.
He scoops me off the floor and onto the bed. I land on my back, and he lands on top of me. He quickly catches himself—so he doesn’t turn me into a human pancake—and kisses me hard. I can still taste myself on him, and when his tongue thrusts between my lips, I know he can probably taste himself on me. I’m already wrapping one leg around his tight, hard hip and iron-clad buttocks, opening myself as I wriggle fiercely against him. His erection digs into my stomach, and I can feel how wet he is, pooling there on my belly. I can also feel how wet I am, pooling much lower.
“Okay, get the dummy round over with. How many were you thinking after that? Just so I can mentally prepare myself.”
“I…possibly at least six.”
“At least six?” My head feels dizzy just thinking about it.
This is not going to be my typical experience. I’m not going to have to fake anything, let my mind drift, or try to imagine something dirty in order to produce an orgasm so that noble intentions can be satisfied. I don’t have to count cats in my head—some people count sheep, but I count cats—and I don’t have to think about some awkward way to make an escape after, or even worse, how to tell the other person that I don’t want them to fall asleep in my bed. This is why I don’t do these things often. Because it’s just a pain in the ass.
But this is not a pain in the ass. My level of need has ratcheted up somewhere into the level of if this doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to lose my shit for real, grow to the size of some epic monster, rise up and crush buildings like they’re made of cardboard while people are little tiny ants, be annoyed by harmless missiles fired from helicopters, and then go on to total world destruction with a single stomp of my monstrous foot.
“Ash, please…” Holy shit, is that wanton, panting voice seriously coming from me? Am I really moaning his name, begging him to fuck me?
My lady cave says no amount of groveling is too much right now, and my ovaries agree. My breasts are so heavy that they might start crushing things with a single blow, and the emptiness inside me feels equally as heavy and hard to bear.
“Should I get a condom?”
“I’m on the pill. Better safe than sorry.” Then, I squeeze my eyes shut because wtf kind of thing to say is that? Better safe than sorry? Meaning I don’t do this often, but when I do, I want to be doubly protected. Anyone else always gets the condom talk from me. But Ash, though?
It’s the curse.
The curse doesn’t want anything between us.
“Are you sure? Because it really sounds like you’d prefer if I wear one.”
“No. I didn’t mean…I’m fine. If you’re sure you’re fine…I mean good…I mean...”
He looks down at me, and his eyes become all soft and thoughtful. “I actually haven’t done this with anyone in a good long while. You?”
I can feel myself going scarlet. “I haven’t either. I mean, I’ve been busy, and I’ve had work to think about. My dad…”