Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Only I want more. I want everything.
I pull back with a sigh. He does away with his t-shirt and lowers me onto the bed.
My body responds before my brain has a chance. My brain is already slowing down, letting my thoughts dissolve. The same zen state I reach when I race.
There's only me and my body.
Only here, there's me and my body and his body and an intense desire to enjoy his body.
I turn onto my side and tangle my legs in his.
He toys with me as he kisses me, his palm on my breast, his thumb against my nipple.
He's good at this. Way too good at this.
It's intense, almost too intense, but that feels good in its own way.
Only, I have no idea how to respond. I feel too good to respond. I can't stop to consider what he wants, how to give as much as I take. I'm too wracked with bliss.
Sensation overwhelms me as he toys with me again and again.
I surrender to the feeling for minutes. Hours maybe. I'm not sure. Finally, my anticipation slows, and I find my footing enough to push him onto his back and climb on top of him.
I kiss him here. I roll my hips against his.
"Slow down." He lets out a low groan and digs his fingers into my thighs. "Or I'll come too fast."
My entire body buzzes. Yes. I want that. I want to make him come. It sounds so obvious like this, but I've never felt the desire before. I've never craved a man's orgasm.
It was… obvious. Expected. Of course, he'd come. That's how it always goes.
But right now?
I need it. I need it so fucking badly.
"Fuck me." The words fall off my lips. It's easy. Too easy, but I don't care about that either. I only care about finding satisfaction. "Please."
He responds by flipping me onto my back.
I do away with my panties.
He slides his hand between my legs.
I nearly come from the contact of his thumb against my clit. I have to kiss him harder. I have to dig my hands into his hair.
Even then, it's not enough. Every brush of his thumb winds me tighter. Tighter. So tight I can barely take it.
Then I'm there, groaning against his lips as I come, pleasure rocking through my pelvis, spilling all the way to my fingers and toes.
It's almost too much to take.
He rubs me through my orgasm, then he slips two fingers inside me. He warms me up, slowly at first, then faster.
"You're wet." He groans into my neck.
I nod. Then I let my head fall back. This is good. Too good.
He stretches me again. Again.
And, again, I'm too overwhelmed to respond.
Again.
I reach for his button. His zipper.
I rub him over the fabric of his boxers.
"Fuck." He groans into my neck as he reaches for the condom. Then it's his jeans, his boxers.
And he's there, naked in my bed.
We're naked in my bed.
He rolls the rubber over his cock; he spreads my legs’ he brings our bodies together.
He fills me with one slow, steady stroke.
I'm ready. I take him with ease, even as he stretches me wider, drives deeper.
I wrap my legs around his hips, and I kiss him hard.
We stay locked like that, moving together, bodies a tangled mess as he pumps into me again and again.
I don't think. I raise my hips to meet him; I kiss him hard; I rake my nails over his back.
Every thrust winds me tighter and tighter, but it's not enough. The angle isn't there.
Then I shift my hips and it is.
An internal clitoral orgasm.
Fuck. I know too much. But I don't care about that either. Only about finding another round of satisfaction.
I dig my nails into his back and I raise my hips to meet him. Again and again, the two of us winding me tighter and tighter.
Then I'm there, my sex pulsing around him, pulling him closer.
He keeps that perfect speed until I release his back, then he moves a little faster, a little harder, the rhythm he needs.
There's something sexy about knowing he's close, feeling the change in his breath, the shudder of his thighs.
Then he's there, groaning against my neck, pulsing inside me.
He works through his orgasm, shifts off me, takes care of the condom, dons his boxers.
"Thanks." I don't move. I don't want to move. I want to lie here and absorb this.
"Thanks?" He laughs again. "You're different."
"What do people usually say?"
"Thanks is good." He takes a long look at me.
"You, uh, you can stay if you want," I say. "But I have an early class and my roomie will freak if you're here alone, so…"
"Do you want me to stay?"
No, but—"I won't kick you out of bed."
"Until tomorrow?"
"Basically."
He smiles. "Next time, we can do this when you don't have class. Go for round two in the morning."