Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
I close my eyes for just a moment and listen because the sound of his lubricated dick sliding though his hand and his shortened breaths are an erotic melody that I’d like to commit to memory forever. Except I can’t take my eyes off of him. Off his dick. Off his strong hand. Off his eyes, watching me watch him. So I bit my lip and lock gazes with him.
Then he starts in with the dirty talk.
Telling me all the things he’d like to do with me. To me.
And now I’m positively writhing beneath him, my heels planted on the bed as I attempt to either buck him off of me or find a point of contact to rub myself against.
I’m begging him to finish. To come on me. And not because I want him to hurry so he can take care of me. But because it’s so freaking hot watching him enjoy himself. His arm muscles flexing as he glides his hand up and down. His strokes so much faster than I’d be capable of doing for him. Rougher than I’d feel comfortable doing.
It turns me on seeing him turned on.
It feels powerful and I’m not even doing anything but observing as he kneels over me. Watching his hips flex when comes. Hearing him grunt his release. Feeling it hit my chest and seeing the look in his eyes when it does.
Because he’s doing this looking at me. Thinking about me. How could I not be turned on by that?
“Fuck, Chloe.” He pants above me, catching his breath. I moan low in my throat and raise my bound hands to him, my request silent. I need to touch him.
“Don’t move,” he instructs, dropping the holster on the floor beside the bed. A moment later he’s back with a warm washcloth. Covering more skin than necessary. Long slow sweeps circling my breasts and tugging my nipples through the terrycloth. But I’ve had enough, I need to touch him. I sit up and pull his lips to mine.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say between kissing him. I run my hands up and down his arms, my fingertips softly tracing his arms as I drop my lips to his neck, pressing kisses everywhere I can reach. Then I wind my fingers into his hair and tug, wondering if it feels as good to him as it does when he’s done it to me.
“I love—” Oh, shit. “I like you, Boyd.” I like him.
He’s still for a moment before replying, his breath warm against my neck when he speaks.
“I like you too, Chloe.”
Now I’m the one who’s stilling. Did he just say like with an awful lot of meaning?
“Relax,” he hums into my ear and I sigh into him as he rolls us over so he’s on top. Then he coerces me into relaxation. With his mouth. He’s not saying anything though. He’s very effective with his lips without words.
“I have something for you,” he says and I nod. I know he does, I can feel it against my thigh. “You distracted me before,” he adds as he reaches into the nightstand and grabs the lube again.
Um. Okay, I guess we’re really going there. I can try. I did tell him I was curious but I don’t think it’s gonna work. I exhale in relief when he pulls something else from the drawer.
“Are those, um…” I pause. I want him to say it. In case I’m wrong and he thinks I’m a total novice. Which I am, but better safe than sorry. Or what if it is what I think it is but he wants me to use it on him? I don’t know if I can do that. But maybe he doesn’t want to do that to me either? But he’s the one who got it so I should probably stop arguing with myself and see what he says.
“Anal beads,” he confirms and pops the cap of the lube. “You’re still interested?” His brow is cocked in challenge but it’s unnecessary. I’m interested.
They’re small, and while they do increase in size as they go, the largest is still smaller than Boyd’s finger. He’s probably bought beginner beads. Fine. I’ve Googled it, okay? Just in case it ever came up, not because I’m a pervert or anything. Anyway, they’re definitely beginner beads.
I nod my head silently and roll over when he motions for me to do so. I glance at him over my shoulder and then bury my face in the bedspread because I’m about to laugh out of nervousness. Are we really doing this?
Then he yanks my hips up until I’m on my knees, spread wide as he kneels between them, and I’m not thinking about laughing. And maybe I am a pervert because I’m throbbing in the best possible way. He rims my ass with his fingertip and I groan and roll my hips towards him, wanting more. But he just circles around and around while I writhe, ready to beg for it.