Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Nino, please,” she begged, her hips wiggling. “Please move,” she demanded again. Then, when I didn’t immediately comply, “Fuck me,” she demanded, voice rough.
And, well, that got through.
I fucked her.
Hard and fast and deep, up and through a shaking, crying orgasm. But I wasn’t done with her.
Fuck, I was never going to be done with her, was I?
Somehow, that thought only filled me with joy and anticipation, not any kind of uncertainty or fear.
I dropped her back down to her own feet, turning her, bending her over, and she reached down, grabbing her own legs as I slammed inside of her from behind.
My hands grabbed her shoulders, holding onto her, keeping her in place as I drove her up once again.
Then I got her to come on my cock again, walls tightening so hard that I couldn’t get back in.
Fisting my cock, I teased it up her cleft, then back and up, testing her interest.
Her ass wiggled against me as she reached outward, grabbing something from the little ledge behind the tub, then passing it back to me as she straightened slightly, grabbing the edges of the tub instead of her legs.
It was some sort of oil in a fancy amber container.
But right there, under the name, I saw it.
Body oil. Personal lubricant.
Well, that was a pretty enthusiastic yes to me.
Popping the cap, I poured some over my cock, then her ass, before putting it down, and teasing my cock along her again, taking my time, waiting until she was writhing, panting, arching up toward me, silently begging for it.
Only then did my cock press against her ass, teasing in, slowly, gently.
But there was no hesitation on her part, just a low moan as she rocked back into me, demanding more.
I inched all the way in, taking a few deep breaths, trying to find some control.
But she was just as far gone as I was, slamming back into me, doing little circles with her hips.
With one hand on her hip, I started to fuck her ass.
Slowly at first, then harder as she demanded more.
My other hand moved out, sliding between her thighs, working her clit with my thumb as I drove her up higher and higher.
Two of my fingers slipped inside her dripping pussy, thrusting as my cock continued to fuck her.
I felt her walls tightening, then pulsing hard as she came, her cry close to a fucking scream as the waves coursed through her over and over.
At the end of it, I pulled out, coming hard on her perky ass, my whole body shuddering, my vision practically fucking blacking out.
I was still gasping for breath when she broke the silence in the room.
“Well, a shower sounds good too,” she said, voice soft as she straightened, reaching back for my hand, pulling me with her.
Then we showered, taking turns running our soapy hands over each other, cleaning, worshipping each inch of each others’ bodies.
But it wasn’t long before my phone was calling me back to the kitchen, so I got dressed again, then left Savannah to see what was going on.
Which wasn’t much, save for my brothers saying they would be around at ten when Ma delivered the bags to them.
I was whipping some eggs with milk when she walked out wearing one of my button-ups. It swallowed her up, her hands completely hidden inside the sleeves, the hem coming down to mid-thigh. But, fuck, was it a good sight.
“Oh, coffee in the tub, orgasms, and breakfast? How’d I get so lucky?” she asked, pulling one of her hands out of the sleeves, and in it was her coffee cup.
“Figured you might need something to eat,” I said.
“After all those orgasms, yes,” she said, walking up behind me, pressing her whole front to my back, her arms going around me.
Fuck, did that feel right.
“So, what are you putting in those eggs?” she asked.
“Got limited supplies until later,” I told her, waving toward the fridge.
She released me, and I tried to remind myself there was plenty of time to feel her arms around me, that there was no reason to feel disappointment for the disconnection.
“There are plenty of ingredients here, silly,” she told me, dragging out some veg, then gathering some spices from the pantry. “We will have to use some hot sauce since there is no cheese to kind of fill out the flavors. And there are fresh bagels!” she added, seeing the brown bag on the counter. “Perfect.”
I wasn’t sure there was anything that could dull the shine this woman had as she hummed and danced around the kitchen, chopping up vegetables, then adding them to the pan when I put the eggs in.
It was the perfect morning.
I mean, the whole safe house thing aside.
“Oh my God,” she yelped, stiffening, and whipping around from where she was placing the plates in the sink.