Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
My heart aches with longing for this man.
He stands to shed his jeans. In seconds, he’s completely naked in front of me for the first time, and I can barely breathe. As I drink him in, he kneels between my thighs again.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I say, and it comes out so reverently that I have to shut up.
I’ve got to stop talking or I will blurt out words of affection. Words of love. Words that will make it impossible to put us back to the way we were if he doesn’t want to find a new way with me.
So I push up on my elbows, thread a hand through his golden locks, then speak without words. I push his head down my body.
A light laugh comes from him. “I hear ya, cutie. I hear ya loud and clear,” River says, returning to the center of my world right now.
My aching cock.
And this man, bless him. He swirls his tongue around the crown, licking off that first drop of liquid arousal like he’s tasting his favorite cocktail.
Well.
I swallow roughly, my whole body buzzing, my bones humming, and he’s barely touching me.
Until . . . he is touching me.
And my hips roll.
And buck.
River draws me into his mouth, humming around my dick. He takes several long, indulgent strokes, flicking his tongue up and down my length as my thighs shake. I’m a firework, and he’s lit me up. I’m sparking hot and fast.
And everywhere.
Flames flicker across my body. Lust coils tight in my veins. My hands wrap around his head, but I’m not rough like he was with me. I just keep him there, where I want him, where he wants to be, enrapt in sucking me off.
I moan with every lick, grunt with every suck, and lose touch with the rest of the world every single second.
Screw the rest of the world. I want only this.
My hips buck as he lavishes sinful attention on my dick, then my balls, sucking them in his mouth while he strokes me with a tight fist, and this is not fair.
I can’t last.
I can’t survive something so good.
I don’t want this to ever stop, but I’m on the verge already.
I can’t stop moaning or saying his name. I’m a broken record panting out yes and fuck and River, and it’s all just so damn good. Just so intense as he returns his mouth to my dick, and my body heats to inferno levels. Then I burn even hotter as he slinks down, settling between my legs. Pushing them apart, he wraps his arms under my thighs, and tugs me even closer to his face.
River looks so insanely sexy, I think I might die from lust. He’s got me, and he’s taking me apart with his mouth.
His sounds electrify me.
His groans of pleasure thrill me.
And the tight wire in me snaps.
All those noises, all those moans, all that evidence of his need for me cuts my razor-thin hold on this moment, and I detonate.
“Coming,” I warn him. I curl my hands tighter around his head, and then I lose it.
Panting.
Breathing ridiculously hard.
Gasping for air.
And River delights, just utterly delights, in sucking the last remnants of my orgasm with a wet, loud pop.
He raises his face, his eyes wild, his lips red and bruised, his expression filthy.
“C’mere,” I say, beckoning.
River climbs up me, and I wrap my arms around his smooth back, pull him close. “BMW?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Bugatti.”
I kiss him again.
Tasting myself on his lips.
Tasting us.
And all at once, I’m both incredibly satisfied and terribly hungry for more.
This must be what it means to not get enough. That’s how I feel—like I just can’t get enough of him.
15
River
“So you really do want me to become a popsicle,” I say, casting my new lover a skeptical look as we stand by the door to the deck, poised.
“I thought it was a melted popsicle,” Owen says, giving a gentle tug on the towel around my waist, but not enough to jerk it off. “Besides, it’s going to feel really good.”
“But what if I die on the way from the house to the hot tub?” I ask, pointing to the twenty feet I have to traverse in the subarctic conditions. “That feels like a real possibility.”
“You didn’t die when you went out there earlier to check it out, did you? Are you a ghost? Did a ghost give me a blow job? Holy shit. I just had a good blow job from a ghost,” Owen says.
“Yes, and that’s why it was so otherworldly,” I say, as we debate whether to cross the short path from the house to the hot tub. Or rather, I debate. Owen seems convinced this is a good idea.
Steam wafts from the jacuzzi like an invitation. He turned the hot tub on fifteen minutes ago.