Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Well, you refuse to look after yourself.” I reached behind me for the bottle of 2002 Le Pin. We’d opened it, but we hadn’t bothered to bring glasses. I took a long drink and passed it to him.
He contemplated the bottle in his hand. “That’s too true. I don’t believe I thanked you for your help yesterday. With…” He gestured vaguely then took a drink.
“If we can’t rely on each other, who can we rely on?” I leaned my sweating head against his shoulder. “Do you want, like, a condolence blow job or something?”
Neil jerked forward, sputtering wine everywhere. He choked and coughed and wiped his mouth, still laughing. “Not while I’m taking a drink, Sophie. That’s really not fair play.”
“Sorry.” I giggled. “But the question still stands.”
“I’ll take you up on that, perhaps, in the morning.” He leaned his head back again. “I’m so tired I wouldn’t stay awake long enough for the pill to kick in.”
“In the morning, then,” I promised. “Is there anything else I can do for you, though?”
He thought for a moment. “Be with me. That’s all I need, right now.”
I leaned on him again and kissed a drop from his collarbone. “That, I can do.”
* * * *
I woke to the feeling of a freshly showered, still slightly damp body beside mine in the bed.
“I hate when you do that,” I mumbled into my pillow. “You get the bed all wet.”
“No, you hate it because it makes you self-conscious that you haven’t showered.” He had me there. I felt gross when his skin was all clean and soft and mine was sleep funky. Still, a promise was a promise. I slipped from the bed. The lovely blue Carine Gilson nightgown, the one he’d bought me for our first Christmas, fluttered to my ankles to puddle on the floor, and I gave him an arched brow over my shoulder.
“You’re not going to make me wait while you shower, are you?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
“No, but I don’t want to go down on you with a dirty mouth.” I dashed into the bathroom, quickly brushed my teeth, swished some mouthwash around then came back.
“You are the only person I know who brushes their teeth before performing oral sex.” He threw the covers back and patted the bed beside him.
“I can’t believe you’re horny the day after your mother’s funeral,” I said, and then, I wished I hadn’t. “Sorry, that was meant to be funnier than it was.”
“I don’t fault you for trying.” He reached for me and pulled me in. His skin, warmed by the blankets, felt so good against mine that I moaned. He chuckled against my neck. “Oh, we’re already there, are we?”
“Hey, we’ve been a little stressed-out this week. Any small relief I can get, I’ll take.” I trailed my fingertips through his chest hair.
“Believe me,” he said as I kissed my way down his stomach. “You’ll get it.”
“You first, though.” I gazed up at him as I rolled to lie between his legs. “Are you my Sir, this morning, or are you my boyfriend?”
“Fiancé,” he corrected, reaching down to cup my jaw. “And Sir is far too tired to make an appearance this morning. Although, his sub is very enticing.”
“Even with bed head, huh?” I stroked my fingers down his hardening length then curled my hand around.
He sighed and crooked one arm behind his head. “Especially with mussed hair. And smeared eyeliner. In my opinion, women always look best if they appear freshly fucked.”
“I’m not sure women care how men like them to look.” I slowly pumped him in my fist and gave him a quirk of my lips. “But, if that’s what you want, then why do I bother getting all dolled up for you?”
“Mmm. Because I like making a mess of you.” He shifted his hips and relaxed into the bed. I sat up and grasped his thick erection in one hand. I rolled the foreskin up and over the head, then back again, and ran my nails lightly over his scrotum.
He gazed at me with a blissfully content smile, and my vagina clenched tight. I got so much pleasure from making him feel good, I almost felt guilty. But our sex always seemed cyclical; I got pleasure from giving him pleasure, and he took pleasure in mine.
With every stroke of my hand, Neil lifted his hips a little more. His breathing quickened, and he turned his face to the side on his pillow. I leaned over and let a thin stream of drool trickle from my mouth onto the head of his penis, stroking him all the while. When I parted my lips and let my open mouth hover over the head, he opened his eyes and smiled, the halfway one that would have been panty melting had I been wearing panties. I slid my mouth down about halfway and released him with sucking pressure. Then, I nibbled my way lightly down his shaft. He bobbed against my lips, twitching impatiently as I made my way back up to the tip to slip my tongue between his foreskin and glans.