Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 57(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 57(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Today is a most excellent day.
I drop to my knees and lick the head of his cock, tasting that first delicious hit of liquid arousal.
“Yes, I knew your mouth would be fantastic,” he groans in appreciation as he fists my hair, tugging me close.
I beam at the praise. I savor the compliment. And I love it when a man is rough with me. It makes me feel used in the best of ways.
Rafe reads me like an open book of dirty poems, tugging me closer still. “But I bet you’d like more of me, wouldn’t you, Gunnar?”
I nod against his flesh, his shaft filling my throat.
“Bet you’d like all of me,” he urges.
I want all of him everywhere. I want all of him in my mouth. I want all of him in my body. In my hand. I want to feel his weight on top of me. I want to feel him moving in me, thrusting, pounding.
Right now, though, I want to taste his come. I suck him like that, tight and deep, so he knows I can handle it.
“All the way now. I know that’s how you want me to give it to you,” he says, so cool and commanding.
My mind is hazy and my body crackles with electricity, a wild charge sizzling over my skin as the man seems to read all my deepest desires and gives them to me. He ropes his fingers through my hair, tugging me deeper onto his cock.
I moan against his steel shaft. Hum against his length. Love the taste of him.
He trembles and something seems to shift. His tight-knit control starts to unravel.
“Yes. Do that. Just like that,” he rasps out, his voice bordering on desperate for the first time.
As I follow his orders, I lavish all my attention on his shaft, swallowing him down to the back of my throat, wrapping my hands around his body, squeezing his ass so he knows what he can do to me.
I gaze up at him, and his eyes glimmer with lust.
“I really want to fuck your mouth,” he murmurs. “Please tell me I can fuck your mouth. I’m dying to.”
I grin wickedly, savoring the fact that he’s not demanding it. He’s begging for it; he’s dying to take me hard, but he’s not going to push unless I can handle it.
And I can goddamn handle it.
I nod, relax my throat, open wider. And I take everything he gives me.
He thrusts hard.
Fucks me deep.
And I take as he talks.
“Yes. You feel incredible. Fuck, that’s so good. That’s so fucking good.”
And it’s so fucking good for me too, because I’m aching, my dick leaking, eager for attention. But I’m determined to give him what he wants.
A blow job from a guy who just hit a home run.
I suck him hard, groaning against his length.
“Yes. That’s it. Coming.”
Pleasure sizzles down my spine, tightens my balls, and floods my brain as he jerks in my mouth. He comes down my throat, salty and musky and absolutely delicious. I drink him all in, tasting every last drop. Then I pull off, lift my face, and meet his eyes. “Can I kiss you again?”
“You’d better.”
I straddle him on the chair, giving him a hard, rough kiss. But it doesn’t stay hard and rough for long. Soon, it slows, to a gentler pace. He’s surprisingly tender as this becomes a soft, sweet ache of a kiss. Almost like he’s thanking me for having sucked him like that.
When he breaks the kiss, he strokes my cheek. “Come over tonight. I want you to model my new underwear. I want to fuck you off the bed. And then I’m going to make you a late dinner. And suck your cock.”
That’s a recipe for a good fucking night.
6
Rafe
* * *
Later that night there’s a knock at my penthouse apartment overlooking San Francisco Bay and the ballpark. I stride over to the door, open it.
Gunnar stands there, his tight purple polo the perfect match for his sparkling blue eyes and dirty blond hair. The man looks like Chris Hemsworth—all buff and built, like when he plays Thor.
Gunnar could hammer me anytime.
“Come in,” I say, and gesture to the apartment behind me as he steps over the threshold.
With a lazy grin, he looks around. “I can’t believe you live near the ballpark and you barely know baseball.”
“Who said I barely know baseball?”
“You didn’t recognize me at the club.” Gunnar taps his firm chest. “I say you barely know baseball.”
I laugh, shutting the door behind him, guiding him into my place. “My deepest regrets for not having memorized the rosters of all the sports teams.”
He gives me a what-can-you-do grin. “I suppose you’re forgiven. Wait, I guess I’ll decide later if you’re forgiven.”
The innuendo is not lost on me.
“Then I’ll do my best to make sure I’ve earned your forgiveness. But is it important to you that I recognized you?”