Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
A slow breath passes my lips while a nervous energy courses through me.
“I want you, and I’ll do my best to do a good job,” I promise in a shaky voice. “I trust you.”
He lets out a long breath and releases his hold on me. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that.” Even as he speaks so gently, his hand moves up and down his hard length.
I’ve never seen a dick up close and personal like this. I’ve felt it. I’ve imagined what he would look like without pants. I knew he had to be big—it would only make sense with his large frame. But this is beyond what I imagined in all those lonely, late-night fantasies. He’s thick, long, and veiny, and for a moment, I contemplate if this is going to work. If I’ll be able to take him fully into my mouth.
I’m torn between fascination and anticipation as I watch a bead of clear liquid ooze from the swollen tip. He catches it with his thumb and rubs it over his head, groaning deeply, his eyes focused on me.
“Are you ready, angel?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, straining, wishing I could take hold of him. I want him to teach me. I need to learn how to please him. He’s already so good at pleasing me.
My breath catches when he reaches out, brushing hair away from my forehead, letting his hand slide over the top of my head until he cups the back. I can’t understand how he can make me feel this way—breathless and nervous and helpless, and so deeply wanted. The heat already blazing deep in my core flares until I’m surprised it doesn’t consume me.
“Open your mouth,” he orders gruffly.
Nothing about him is gentle now. The look in his eyes has changed. There’s still deep, burning desire, but there’s something else. Possession, a need to own me.
He has an edge to him, something dangerous. He’s no longer holding himself back. It’s unbelievable how much that turns me on. How much more I want him. How wet I am, so wet and aching I could cry.
For once, it isn’t my pleasure we’re focused on.
It’s his. He brings himself closer to my mouth, and his harsh breathing stops for an instant once the silky tip touches my lips. I part them to let him in, my entire body going still as I focus solely on the sensation of his velvet-covered steel invading my mouth one excruciating inch at a time.
Am I doing this right? I guess he’d tell me if I wasn’t.
A deep groan comes from his full lips, and my pulse quickens. The sound is almost as good as the feeling of his fingers and tongue on me. The memory of it invades my mind. It leaves me squeezing my thighs together in silent desperation to ease the painful ache in my clit, as he slowly fills my mouth and, eventually, hits the back of my throat.
“Fuck…” He draws out the sound, and from this angle, I can just make out the features of his face. The way his eyes close and his nostrils flare, the way his lips part ever so slightly, and his head tips back.
Is it supposed to feel like this? So… powerful? Because that’s the word that comes to mind as he pulls back, then pushes forward again. Slowly, so slowly.
I have power over him. I know it because he has the same power over me. When he went down on me and when he fingered me at the party, there weren’t many conscious thoughts going through my head except for one.
I would’ve done anything for him.
Absolutely anything. He could’ve asked me to jump off a bridge, and I probably would’ve done it if it meant he wouldn’t stop. My entire life hinged on whether or not he’d keep doing what he was doing.
With that in mind, I brace myself for the next sure thrust, for the next groan that tears its way from him when he reaches the back of my throat and leaves me gagging and struggling not to give away the panic that’s slowly creeping in.
I catch him watching me, our eyes meeting, and I’m sure he recognizes the way I’m fighting to go along with this. My heart swells in my chest. I’d do anything to make him feel as good as he’s made me feel. To make him come the way he’s so generously done for me.
But.
Instead of taking it easy or letting me up for air, his grip on my head tightens—my scalp tingles when he threads his fingers into my hair—and he drives himself deeper than before, so deep I gag. I should be better at this. I should be able to handle it. We were made for each other, yet his huge penis doesn’t seem to fit well with my mouth. Tears of frustration and confusion sting my eyes, and as hard as I try, I can’t blink them back.