Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Or a rancher out west.
That’s basically what he is, wrapped in a football jersey.
“I’m glad you didn’t wear a bra.” He’s nuzzling my neck, working the hem of my shirt up so he can lift it over my head.
I raise my arms to make it easier.
“Fuck, your titties are perfect.”
The blush sweeps me from head to toe; it’s a dirty compliment and I’m here for it. Makes me feel a bit naughty. Less prim and proper and all woman.
They fit in his hands as if they were made for them.
“I’m not going to be the only one sitting here with no shirt on,” I say. “Take yours off, too. Please.”
“Since you said please…”
His shirt is off in an instant, and the eager look in his eyes gets me excited. Hot.
Duke reaches over and dips his finger back into the pie, sweeping off a bit of whipped cream.
“Stop doing that!”
He dabs whipped cream on each of my nipples. “I’m gonna have dessert before dinner.”
Duke squats, eyes level with my boobs.
Licks the white whip off one nipple. Sucks until my head tips back and my fingers plow through his hair.
Licks and sucks the other one clean.
Stands again so I can kiss the sweet topping off his lips, our tongues sugary sweet.
My hands work the fly of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, the fulfilling zip mingling with the sound of our excited breathing.
“Mmm, give me that dick.” I laugh when his pants are off, down around his ankles—exactly where I want them.
His eyes go wide. “Josephine, I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Why?”
He kisses my bare collarbone. “’Cause you’re so proper.”
“Maybe we should roleplay sometime. I’ll dress up as a nun, and you can be a priest.”
“Don’t know about that. I haven’t been to church in years, darlin’.”
He’s so cute when he’s being clueless. “Neither have I. That doesn’t mean I can’t dress up as a nun.”
“What would we do if you were dressed as a nun?”
Do I actually have to explain this to him? Sigh.
My hands run over his bare chest as he plays with my boobs and gyrates between my legs. “Well. I’d pretend I wasn’t able to flirt with you on account of I’ve given myself to God—and I’m a good girl.”
He presses forward, hard dick pressing against the apex of my thighs. “A good girl, hey?”
“The goodest,” I murmur when he licks my skin from the curve of my shoulder to the spot beneath my earlobe.
Mmm.
“And I’d try to get you to break your vows, hey?”
“Mm-hmm. My vows of chastity.”
“Ah, I see.” His fingers hook inside my legs, and he tugs, wanting them off.
I lift my ass in an assist; he slides both my leggings and underwear down my legs, over my feet, and tosses them on the floor.
Now we’re both naked.
Now… Duke is kneeling. Spreading my legs, he puts his mouth where his cock had been nudging me, licking up and down the center of me as if I tasted sweet as pie.
His fingers spread frosting on me. He digs deeper into the pie and spreads the pudding filling on my inner thighs, making a huge mess in the process, but I’m too aroused to care.
His face is a mess.
“Fuck, this tastes good.”
“Yes…” I moan. Yes, it feels so good.
Don’t stop, don’t stop.
He licks and sucks. I prop my legs on his shoulders because it’s hard to hold them in the air; I lean back, resting back on the counter on my elbows, tits covered in pie, pussy covered in pie, Duke Colter licking it all off my naked, hot flesh.
Who in a million years would have thought this would be happening to me? Who in a million years would have thought I’d have the most sought-after football player in the world down on his knees?
Not me, that’s who.
DUKE
“We have pie,” I announce at the end of dinner.
“No, we don’t.” Posey is shaking her head, giving me that look across the table that says ‘don’t argue with me’ without actually saying ‘don’t argue with me,’ and gives my foot a kick under the table.
When I lean over and glance beneath it, she glares at me again.
“Why don’t we have pie? Did you throw it away?”
“Duke.” She gives me a hard stare. “We ruined the pie. So we can’t serve it at dinner.”
Oh.
That’s right, she gets weird when food has holes and big chunks of it already eaten or tampered with.
“How’d you ruin the pie?” Eli is leaning back in his chair, full from dinner but interested in how we ruined the pie.
“Sex pie.”
“Sex pie?” His eyes are wide as saucers.
Posey swats at me with a nearby hand towel. “Oh my God—no. It’s not sex pie. He just wouldn’t leave the pie alone after I asked him to a few times, so it’s covered with germs.”
She’s so embarrassed.
“Liar.”
“Seriously, what’s sex pie?”