Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
But as soon as I face him, I clam up. He’s so intimidating, not in a sense of being scary, but in a sense that he’s been with a whole lot of girls, and is far more experienced than I ever could imagine being.
“Jules?” he whispers my name, his voice caressing something deep inside of me. He moves to face me, his body rubbing against mine as he does so, and I can feel the heat of his skin rolling off of him and crashing into me, blanketing me with warmth.
“Yeah?” I croak.
“Do you feel it? The connection between us?”
I consider telling him no. We don’t even know if we’re friends yet, doing anything else would complicate things, and then my brain, my stupid brain reminds me of what it felt like before, when he fingered me. Yeah, he was doing it out of anger, but he was gentle, and his touch brought immense pleasure.
“Yes…” I answer him breathlessly.
“Do you…” He pauses, and I feel my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. “Do you want me to touch you?”
I stare into his eyes with a thousand different reasons to say no, all while knowing none of them matter right now.
“Yes,” I whisper so quietly I’m not even sure that he heard me until he reaches his hand out to touch the side of my face. He traces the contours of my face with his finger, his eyes moving to my lips, and like a crack addict, I’m addicted to his touch.
“Please?” I lick my lips impatiently and when all he does is smile, I move, pushing him onto his back so I can straddle him.
It’s so unlike me to be this possessive, in control, but it’s always been this way with him. I’ve always felt the need to touch him, to let him touch me. I just never understood why. I move, then he moves, and then we move together as one.
Tossing my leg over his middle, I press my panty-covered center against his bare stomach before he can move. Peering down into his almost black eyes, I gasp. I can feel his hardened cock against my ass. The temptation to press my bottom down against him is too great and as soon as I do, he’s reacting.
“Shit, Jules,” he growls, and his hands circle my hips, his hold possessive as he moves them just enough to send a shiver of pleasure up my spine.
“I want you.” The words come out breathless. “I want you to touch me like you did before.” I can’t believe I’m admitting this, especially out loud.
“You do?” he asks as if he has a hard time believing me.
I nod my head and a big grin spreads across his face.
“Okay…but you have to do something in return for me.”
“W-what?” I’m nervous to hear the answer, not because I don’t want to do it but because I’m worried he’s not going to appreciate my clumsy and inexperienced moves.
“I want you to kiss me.”
A kiss? Not what I was expecting but something I can do. Lowering my head, I slant my lips over his and press them firmly against his full ones. Fire fills my belly, and something inside my soul ignites at the contact of our lips touching.
This time, there is no hesitation between us.
As soon as our lips touch, he pulls me even closer, my chest flush against his, the thin fabric of my t-shirt being the only thing keeping us from fully touching, and I hate it.
I want the fabric gone. One of his hands moves from my hip and threads into the silky strands of my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss until my whole body is consumed with flames of pleasure.
Consumed by him.
My nipples harden at the contact of his hard chest, and I rub them against him, small jolts of pleasure rippling across my skin as I do.
“Fuck, you’re so reactive to my touch.” He pulls away just enough to speak, and I grind my center against his hard abs, every little movement making my blood sing, my body, my pussy hungry for more.
“I want you…please?” I mewl, nipping at his bottom lip. I’m unsure of what I really want or need, all I know is that whatever it is, it lives inside of the man under me, the man looking into my eyes with so much love, so much passion.
“You have me…” he whispers, his fingers tracing my face as if he’ll never get another chance to.
“No, I mean…” I kiss him again, feeling like I have to make up for lost time. “I want you to make me…” I’m still slightly ashamed to say it out loud.
“Come?” he asks, a twinkle of amusement in his hooded eyes. “You want me to make you come?”
I nod my head furiously, not even worrying how eager I must look.