Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Talk to me, Camille,” he says, watching me closely. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“Please,” I murmur, not averse to begging for his attention and touch. Anything. His finger starts moving again, but it drifts south, following a straight path across my tummy and onto my thigh. A low, broken cry escapes me, my body tensing with anticipation.
“And here?” His finger slips between my thighs and skims the pulsing lips at my entrance.
I lose control, my eyes slamming shut and my bowed spine arching some more on a scream of despair. “Jake, please!” I beg, my arms twitching above my head, ready to grab him and pull him close.
“It’s coming.” He pushes two fingers inside of me, filling me, dowsing down the burn of desire. “I feel it.” His voice shakes as he circles far and wide, exploring me inside. “So ready and desperate.”
“Oh God,” I sigh, settling a little with the welcome feeling of him inside, massaging me deeply. All of my muscles constrict, doubling the pleasure. I’m building already.
“Don’t come,” he orders, prompting me to open my eyes in alarm. I find his face, still studying me closely as he tortures me with precise, talented fingers. “Not yet,” he adds in reassurance, but then also adds his thumb to my swollen clitoris, magnifying the difficulty of following his order.
I can no longer keep my arms where they are, pulling them down and sliding them across my tummy, relishing in the feel of my own touch. The heady cocktail of sensations being inflicted on me is new. It could also become very addictive. Jake is already addictive. What he can do to me, how he can make me feel. He’s been devoting his attention to me for a few moments and I’m already tinkering on the edge of eternal want. Of eternal safety.
“Do you feel good, Camille?” he asks, low and rough, watching my hands gliding all over my tummy as he pumps his fingers into me methodically.
“Yes!” I’m losing my mind, and he’s enjoying it.
“I’m jealous.” He uses his spare hand to take both my wrists in his grip and pulls them away, devastating me.
He releases my hands gently and slowly above my head, fixing me with a telling stare. I’m not allowed to move them, and when he’s certain I’ll comply, he rises and looms over me. “Are you on birth control?”
I nod.
“Are you clean?”
I nod again speedily, unoffended. There’s no room for insult amid the bombardment of longing and want. There’s also no room to think, which is why I don’t return the question. Not that I need to.
“Me too.” He comes down over me, planting his fists into the mattress on either side of my head.
“My arms?” I whisper, asking for instruction of what to do with them.
“Just keep them where they are.”
His chest meets mine, heavy and firm, his arms bending at the elbows to bring his face closer to mine. Then his groin meets my hips and I feel the hot head of his cock nudge lightly at my opening. My heart kicks, and he hisses, freezing and closing his eyes. He’s searching for restraint. He’s dragging this out, making me dizzy with impatience, but I have to let him go slowly.
“I’ve tried not to imagine how good this would feel.” He exhales, opening his eyes and letting them sink into my gaze. “I tried so fucking hard.”
Another brush of contact from his arousal physically burns, and then I hold my breath, almost scared of the pleasure I’m about to experience. For no other reason than I know I’ll want more.
Jake lifts and angles his hips, then glides smoothly forward, entering me unhurriedly, gradually filling and stretching me. I groan, sighing, my legs linking around his lower back and pulling him in, my arms draping around his shoulders.
“Oh, fucking hell,” he whispers. Dropping his head, he begins to breathe through his single stroke, his body trembling in my arms. “I knew it,” he says hoarsely. “I knew I’d fit you so fucking right.”
He does. He’s long and broad, but my internal muscles hug him inside of me so perfectly. “Move,” I beg, flexing my hips a little, encouraging him on.
“Just give me a second.” He drops to his forearms and raises his head, letting the tip of his nose meet mine. “I need a second.”
I want to hurry him along, but seeing him so in awe of how we feel connected so deeply is keeping that want at bay. So I let his eyes caress mine and wait for him to gain some stability. I use the time to draw delicate lines across his back, my ghosting finger instigating shudders from him.
“You’re not helping, Camille,” he gently scorns, rubbing his nose with mine and withdrawing, sliding free until the tip of his cock is tickling my entrance again.