Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I open the fridge and try to figure out what we can have for lunch.
“This naked enough for you?” Efa says.
I turn to find her entirely nude, her hand on her hip, standing in the middle of the living room, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders.
My breathing falters, and all I can see is her.
She beckons me forward with a curl of her finger. Like I’m in a trance, I step toward her.
“Looks like you’ve got far too many clothes on,” she says. “Let me help you with that.”
I tip my head back as she slips her fingers beneath my waistband and undoes the button on my jeans. She slides the denim over my hips, pulling my briefs down with them. She kneels before me, taking off my shoes, socks, and then my pants, so I’m naked from the waist down.
My cock rears in front of her, and I pull off my t-shirt in one swift movement. She remains kneeling in front of me, and I cup her head with my hand.
I gaze at her, wondering if a moment could be more perfect—that is, until she opens her mouth slightly and licks her lips.
I groan. That tongue. As soon as I saw it, I imagined how it would feel on me. She sits on her knees, tips back her head and opens her mouth. It’s like she’s begging me to fuck her mouth and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
I take a half step closer, grip her hair in my hand, and paint her lips with the head of my dick.
She makes a humming noise, the vibrations making me want to shout out loud. She’s so fucking perfect and knows exactly how to get to the core of me. I take hold of the root of my dick and push into her mouth. Her eyes go wide and she slides her hands up the back of my thighs. Her lips close around my length, but she doesn’t move. Our eyes lock, and I know what she’s asking me. What she wants.
Fuck.
I slide in deeper. Her eyes are on me, watering slightly as I get to the back of her throat. She swallows and I groan at the sensation, pulling back slightly.
She moves, taking me in deeper still, then reaches for my hand in her hair, asking for more.
This woman.
My eyes close for a long beat as I try to compose myself, but there’s something in me that can’t hold back with her. I grip her hair tighter and pull back.
“You want me to fuck your mouth?” I ask. “That’s what you want?”
She nods, her eyes soft. Submissive. When I know she’s anything but.
I clench my jaw and push back into her, a little rougher. Not just because she’s asked for it, but because I can’t hold back anymore.
Her gagging noises run into moans of pleasure. My entire body tightens.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I want to stretch out this moment and make it last for days. I want her on her knees in front of me, her mouth around my cock, for the rest of time. I want to be seventy and replay this scene in my head over and over again.
She makes a low humming sound that vibrates at the back of her mouth, and I push deeper, chasing each second of sensation.
My orgasm grumbles in the distance. It’s gaining ground and I pull out with a grunt. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she sticks out her tongue. She knows what’s next.
Her fingernails dig into my ass, and I grip the base of my cock and erupt over her wet, warm tongue, pulsing thick white ropes of come all over her.
I think I may have met my match.
SEVENTEEN
Bennett
She emerges from the shower wrapped in a towel that’s far too big. I can’t see enough skin.
“What’s today got in store for us?” she asks. I’m still lying in bed, my hand tucked behind my head as I watch her every move.
“My vote is for you dropping that towel and getting over here.”
She flicks her towel open and shuts it again, and I can’t help but laugh at her flashing me.
“I didn’t catch that. Do it again.”
“I vote for wood chopping and s’mores,” she replies, ignoring my request for more naked Efa. “We have to make the most of our surroundings. We should build a fire and do campfire-y stuff.”
“Like s’mores.”
“And we can sing songs.”
And fuck in the moonlight, I think to myself. I can focus on the physical and ignore the fact that I enjoy Efa almost as much in clothes as I do out of them.
I push back the covers and jump to my feet. “Okay, I brought a plaid shirt with me. I’m ready to be a mountaineer.”
“Hmm, sounds like I need some help from a hunky lumberjack. If you find a number, let me know. In the meantime, dig out that plaid shirt and let’s go chop some wood.”