Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Thatcher pulls my jeans off each foot, revealing my cheetah-print panties, and his hand slopes down the length of my soft leg, stretching me wider, and another noise jettisons between my parted lips.
“Thatcher. ” I tremble.
His knee meets the floor, and he kisses my inner-thigh, his warm breath electrifying nerve-endings. His mouth ascends to my heat.
I sink back onto my shoulders, my body tightening with each breath, but I turn my head and feverishly try to watch this dream-like scenario unfold.
Our eyes meet in raw yearning, and he pushes aside my panties. His thumb teases my clit, and my back arches.
I inhale sharply.
He watches my pleasured spasms, and he replaces his thumb with his tongue—I can’t catch my breath, I already cry out.
My legs already quiver.
“Thatcher.”
His mouth knows exactly what parts of me crave touch and his skill—and a shockwave zips through my veins.
“Oh God,” I cry, shaking in an orgasm. Oh so quickly.
I reach around my leg and clutch his broad shoulder for support. He hits another pleasure point—and my toes curl, eyes snapping shut.
Oh God. I try to keep them open. To watch in case this only ever happens once.
He kneads my breast before snapping off my bra.
I gasp, entirely overcome.
He stands up some, bracing his knee on the mattress, and he cups my heat with his large palm that clenches and thrums. His other hand pulls off my bra.
He returns to my exposed breasts, and his tongue teases my hardened nipple. He sucks the sensitive flesh, and the image is enough to make me come once more.
A soft, breathy moan escapes my quaking body. I’m soaked against his palm that still cups me. It’s as though he’s protecting my clit, knowing it’s too swollen to toy with again just yet.
And I feel like I’ve been with boys in contrast. No one could satisfy me this quickly or without copious amount of direction. Which isn’t bad, per se, just different. But I think I prefer this.
I prefer an experienced man.
I prefer him.
Trying to catch some breath, I manage to say, “You’re very…knowledgeable…”
He holds my gaze in the hottest vice. “I love your pussy.” Cut and dry. To the point.
I fight to speak and not just pant, but words…are…gone.
His fingers, the ones against my heat, slip between my folds. He pushes one finger inside of me, and I pulsate.
An overwhelmed, high-pitched moan comes with a sharp gasp. “Yes .”
He pumps his fingers, finding the perfect spot in seconds. His biceps flex.
I soar off another peak, my thighs shaking, drenched in sweat. I grip his wrist, keeping his finger inside of me.
He slips another in.
“Thatcher,” I moan, trying to move and add friction against his hand. I prop up on an elbow, and he sits up slightly off me. Letting me see how his fingers are deep inside of me.
I lift my gaze to him. There is so much more that I desire. So much closer I wish and ache to be.
He wears a similar longing expression. We’ve ripped through restraints, but a giant one still remains intact.
“Jane.” His chest is taut in need. “I want to put my cock in you.”
I clench around his fingers. “I want you to.”
Thatcher has a choice to make, and he does. “Fuck it.” He eyes me strongly. “I’m fucking you.”
Yes, God. I’ve never loved five words more than those. I release my clutch on his wrist.
He kisses me, gathering fire, and then gently pulls his fingers out.
While he shifts back, I drop my feet to the floor and sit on the edge of the mattress. Thatcher towers above me, but I’m at a perfect angle to give him head.
I also really, really want to grab his ass.
He unbuttons his slacks, and I tug them down. Dark gray boxer-briefs mold his hard length that is…impressive.
The longer I stare, the more my mouth slowly falls. I can feel him watching me like I just watched him.
My ankles hook around his legs, and I slip my palms down the back of his boxer-briefs. Squeezing his peach-perfect ass with two hands.
“I love your butt,” I say as pointedly as he did.
Light reaches his brown eyes. He expels breath through his nose, pent-up. I can clearly see how badly.
He nods. “I love your voice.”
My stomach flutters. Most people find my constant chatter grating after a while, but he makes me feel so very desired. And safe.
And terribly beautiful.
Thatcher pulls down his boxer-briefs, freeing his rock-hard erection. In stunning view.
He is huge. My jaw is now on the floor. I think my prior estimations were off. I think he may be more than eight-inches. That is about to be inside of me. I ache for more intense pressure.
Thatcher steps out of the boxer-briefs, buck-naked in front of me.
I stroke his length, my hand looking small around his shaft. His abs tighten, a heavier breath concaving his firm chest.