Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I came more intensely than I’d have ever thought possible. My fumbles by myself at night had never come close.
I was still panting for breath as he raised himself onto his elbows, his lips glistening wet.
I didn’t have any holdups about kissing him when he climbed back on top of me. I loved every taste. Even though I knew nothing about sex in practice, my body knew what it needed to be doing. I felt the ridge of Julian’s cock through his trousers and made sure I worked it up and down my pussy – slit. He wanted it, too. His cock wanted to be inside me.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, but I wanted to tempt him. I wanted him to make me his.
I kept working myself against him, and he closed his eyes.
“Quite the little temptress,” he said, and I loved the way he breathed as he said it. I’d love to play with him, just like he’d played with me, but it seems he had other plans.
My tits were a whole other level of sensitive as he sucked on my nipples. My skin was damp with sweat as he made his way back down my body. My clit was still sparking, so tender that it made me flinch as he lapped at me, just once. He didn’t linger there, just kept on going down. He yanked me down the bed and pushed my legs up high, and I got a fresh bout of nerves, post orgasm. I knew he was staring at my asshole. My face must have been like beetroot, wondering if I was clean.
“Have you ever imagined how it would feel to take a cock in your ass?” he asked me.
“Yes. Plenty of times. Especially when I’m hearing it in audio,” I said.
“Really? And what else have you imagined? What do you think about when you play with your clit?” He kissed me, in my dirtiest spot. A hot kiss that felt so weird. “How about this?”
He kept probing, pushing the tip of his tongue against my ass. It made me whimper, too embarrassed to look at him.
He spotted that.
“I want your eyes on me,” he said. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about here. I want to know every single part of you. I love filthy secrets.” His laugh was dirty. “I love filthy everything.”
I didn’t doubt that. I wanted to taste it all with him. Everything he knew. Everything he could give. Everything he could show me.
“You haven’t answered my question.” He was staring up at me from between my legs, grinning over the hair of my pussy. “I asked you what you thought about when you played with your cunt at night.”
“You,” I said. “I think about you.”
“What about me? Do you imagine that I’m fucking you?”
His words had my clit tingling all over again.
“Yes,” I said, “I imagine that it’s your fingers playing with my cunt.”
He grinned at that. His eyes full of lust as he dropped back to my asshole and pushed his tongue inside and I squirmed for him, it felt so weirdly nice.
I couldn’t believe I had the man upstairs’ tongue digging into my asshole. He was the man from my fantasies, and here he was. It was a dream come to life, a high unknown to the lows of my past. I seriously could have pinched myself, but I didn’t want to waken from such a filthy dream.
He kissed and licked and probed my ass until I was building to a peak for a second time. His experience was so obvious when he read my body like a novel. As though I was the material of his profession, and he was the lecturer, right here with me. He brushed my clit as I began to rise again – a gentle tune. A skilled one.
The next orgasm came quickly. A harsh spike that had me wailing like a needy bitch. All it did was make him smile.
He played, and played, and played, until I was a sweaty, tingling wreck, still clutching at the headboard. My fingers were sore by the time he finally relented and laid at my side, lips puffy from all the pleasure he’d been giving me.
I considered trying to loosen his tie for a second time, but he didn’t give me the chance to. He got up from the bed and held out a hand. I took it and got to my feet, my legs aching.
“I think you need a drink,” he said, and he was right about that. My throat was parched. “Wouldn’t want you to get cold,” he said as we passed his wardrobe. He took a shirt off a hanger. “I’d prefer you naked, of course, but I’m not sure the temperature would be that kind. The heating isn’t exactly up to par in this place.”