Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 111768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
I can't hear whoever is on the line, but Naz listens intently, his expression guarded. "Give me about twenty minutes and I'll be on my way."
He hangs up, slipping the phone back into his pocket, and advances toward me but I hold out my hands to stop him. "What the hell was that?"
He hesitates. "What?"
"That song," I say. "That ringtone."
"Oh, you don't like it?"
"I, uh..." What am I supposed to say? "I don't know, do you?"
He shrugs. "It's not the worst I've heard."
He tries to kiss me, leaning in, but I move my head out of the way. "No, seriously, Naz, what the hell? Where did it come from?"
He gives up, at least temporarily, and takes a step back, cocking an eyebrow at me. "I downloaded it today. Figured I could use a new ringtone."
"But that?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, but..."
"But what?"
"But it's not you."
"Not me?"
"Besides, you don't even like music. You told me it was just noise, and pointless, and you didn't like it."
"True."
"So what the hell? Is this, like, some kind of mid-life crisis?"
"Ouch," he says, laughing. "I'm not that old."
"Okay, you're not, but really... what gives?"
Different.
So goddamn different.
He stares at me in silence for a solid minute, long enough to make me start to squirm under his gaze. Finally, he steps forward, his hand slipping around the back of my neck, gripping it as he steers me toward him.
"I'm down to fifteen minutes before I have to leave," he says, his voice stone cold serious. "So do you want to talk about Drake some more, or do you want to go upstairs and fuck?"
Well, when he puts it like that...
"Fifteen minutes," I say. "Is that long enough?"
His expression cracks at my question, a cocky smile turning his lips as the dimples come out. "Sweetheart, all I need is five."
"I'll take the second option, then," I tell him, "but I see no reason to have to go upstairs for it."
Naz's face hovers in front of mine, his mouth so close I can practically taste his breath. Softly, his lips brush against mine, as he whispers, "I like the way you think."
I go to kiss him, but before I can, he spins me around so my back is against him, his arm snaking around my waist, gripping me tight. He drags me across the room, shoving me against the kitchen counter so hard that it knocks the breath from my lungs.
I gasp, inhaling sharply, as he unbuttons my jeans and tugs on them, yanking them down my legs. I try to help, try to kick them off, and manage to get one leg free before he gives up. One of his hands slips down the front of my panties, his fingers roughly stroking my clit, as his other works on his own zipper, doing nothing more than yanking it down to free himself. He strokes his cock a few times before pushing my panties down my thighs, giving up when they reach my knees.
His hand is on my back then, pushing me down against the cold countertop. I brace myself, gripping the edge, as he pushes into me from behind. It's tight, since I can barely spread my legs apart, but he doesn't seem to mind a bit. I was ready the second he touched me, my body always reacting instantly to him.
The first thrust is gentle, careful, but after that all bets are off. He pulls out and shifts his hips forward so hard that I bang against the counter, almost knocking the damn coffee machine apart.
"Shit," I curse, but that's the last word I manage to speak, because he's driving into me so ferociously that I'm fucking lucky I can still breathe. I arch my back as one of his arms snakes around me, once again finding my clit, as his other hand still presses hard against my back, pinning me in position. He fucks me like he's sprinting toward a finish line, the bang-bang-bang of my body hitting the counter amplified in the otherwise silent house.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I'm gasping and moaning and groaning, grunting like a goddamn cavewoman who doesn't know how to speak.
Uh. Uh. Uh.
I'm barely holding on and my legs are shaky, but he's keeping me in place, like I'm not much more than a rag doll. I can feel the tightening in my stomach, can feel the tension taking over my muscles, gripping hold inside of me. It builds like I'm going up on a roller coaster before I hit the drop.
Whoosh.
A noise bursts from my chest, a growling scream. Fuck. My knees almost buckle from the intensity of the orgasm, but his strong grip keeps me up. He doesn't let up his movements at all, rubbing and thrusting, giving me all he's got, until my orgasm starts to taper off. My cries turn to whimpers, but he doesn't stop, grunting behind me as his body tenses.
I can feel it as he lets loose inside of me.
But in a blink, he's gone.
In a blink, he's out of me.
In a blink, he lets go.
His hands are no longer touching my body.
I instantly miss the warmth.
It's so quick I don't have a chance to adapt to the change. My legs give out on me, and I slip away from the counter, plopping my ass right down on the floor. There's a throbbing between my legs and a tightening in my chest, and I don't know how he did it, but I feel like I've gone twelve rounds in a ring and lost.
I stare up at him as he backs away.
"I've still got a few minutes," he says, his voice calm, composed, "if you want to go again."
I hold my hands up, waving him off. "I'm good."
His expression cracks with a smile as he tucks himself back away, zipping his pants up, straightening his belt. It takes him all of thirty seconds to pull himself together.
It's going to take me all night.
Stepping back toward me, he crouches down so we're eye-level. His hand gently rests on my knee as he slowly rubs circles on my skin with his thumb. He's quiet as he stares at me for a moment. I'm still trying to catch my breath… my panties are like shackles around my calves and my jeans are just fucking gone.