Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
So close.
“Wait.” My hands go to his shoulders to stop him from pumping. “I want to be on top. Sit down, and I’ll climb on top.”
He stops.
Pulls out.
Pulls me to a stand so I’m in front of him as he sits on the couch, legs spread, dick hard, reaching for my waist so I’ll climb back on.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as his hands skim my hips. He kisses my breasts when I position myself, sinking down with a groan.
It’s not easy to get my legs in the right position—or my knees—but I make it work, find my angle, find the spot.
The spot.
Right there…
“Yes…”
Don’t move, let me do it…
Keep doing that…
So hard.
So good.
He plays with my nipples as I ride him, lost in the moment, kissing his mouth, tongue sloppy, feeling a little dirty but so freaking sexy. So in control.
He lets me have my way with him, and it doesn’t take me long, being on top, to reach my climax, moaning loudly but not crying out, moaning again, teeth nipping at the skin of his shoulder as his hands skim my ass, pulling.
Selfishly, I stop moving, giving my body a few seconds to bask in the afterglow before I lift my head and ask, “How do you want me?”
He doesn’t have to think about it twice. “Kneel on the couch.”
Ass in the air, Eli stands behind me. He enters me this way, and I moan a bit, sensitive from my own orgasm, secretly hoping he’ll come quickly so I can rinse off and get my sweatpants back on.
Does that make me a horrible person or just lazy?
“Couch sex is so good,” he mutters.
If this penthouse wasn’t so high in the sky without an obstructed view, I would feel like we were in a fishbowl and into voyeurism. If we were several floors lower, anyone could see inside.
I moan loudly, knowing the sounds will turn him on. I lift my ass higher so he can pump into me without adjusting his height.
“Oh yeah,” I breathe dramatically. “Fuck me, Eli…”
I should win an Oscar for my performance because within seconds, he comes, pulling out, coming on the flesh above my ass crack with a loud, satisfied moan.
His body jerks.
Jerks again.
He pauses before pulling away, giving me a light tap, kissing me on the shoulder.
“Sorry about that. I’ll grab a rag.”
I wait, butt-ass naked, rear in the air, for my date to retrieve a towel and wipe me up, so I’m not dripping cum on his beautiful marble floors.
Together, we stand side-by-side in his bathroom, grinning at each other, pleased with ourselves and our efficient banging.
Eli hands me a toothbrush from the linen closet behind his sink, and I set about brushing my teeth, still naked but clean, nonplussed to be doing this menial task in my birthday suit.
I put my tee shirt back on.
And my underwear.
Leaving my pants off, I cover my bottom half with a blanket when we’re back on the couch, remote pointed at the television.
Under the covers, Eli reaches for my hand.
I smile, taking it.
It’s my turn to choose what we watch, and to his dismay, it’s a documentary about some skeezy doctor who fathers over three thousand children, the entire story making me queasy.
Behind us, I hear the front door open.
Confused, I turn my head.
twenty-two
eli
“Um, Eli. I think you have a visitor?”
I glance at Molly, her face a stone wall of puzzlement, eyes glued to the front door.
I follow her gaze.
My ex-girlfriend slash live-in slash roommate is standing at the threshold, zero fucks given, watching Molly and me both as we lie on the couch, barely clothed.
“Jesus Christ, Laura, what are you doing here?”
She holds up her hand, a key ring dangling from her index finger.
“I have a key.”
Clearly.
“I see you have company.” Her head tilts to the side as she studies Molly. “Are you the same woman he was at the awards banquet with?”
I hadn’t thought she’d seen me there—us there—but I guess I should have known better. Laura has always been shrewd with an eagle eye, one of the many things that made her a great attorney. When she wanted to practice law, that is.
“Why are you here?” My arms are folded across my chest—my bare chest—stance defensive as the woman who used to live in this house stands in my kitchen as if she owns the place.
She plunks the key down on the cold, granite counter. “You probably want these back. For her.”
Wow, she’s a real piece of work, breaking in unannounced as if I wouldn’t have an issue with it.
As if I’d be alone.
“I’m only going to repeat myself one more time before I call the cops. Why. Are. You. Here?”
“Oh, relax,” Laura scolds me, leaving her place at the counter to sashay into the living room, belly bump in full display. Damn, her stomach is huge. She looks like she’s about to give birth any day now. “I’m here because I have something to tell you.”