Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Taking a deep breath, I go up to my feet, one hand on the couch for support. Sloane stands up as well, my fluids glistening on his mouth and chin, and he looks like a hungry wolf ready to devour his prey.
“Are you just going to stare or are you going to fuck me?” I throw my words at him, knowing that I’m poking that hungry wolf, making it angry and wild. And that’s exactly how I want it.
Without a single word, he grabs both my wrists and closes the distance between us. His eyes seem like they’re made of ice and fire at the same time, and I realize that’s what made me lust after him in the first place: his eyes. Sure, he’s taller and more handsome than any man should be allowed to be. But his eyes, Jesus, they seem like two precious stones, shining smartly and lulling everyone they fall upon into a trance.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel like a virgin again,” he whispers, his voice leaving no room for doubt: he intends to keep his promise.
“I think Drake already beat you there,” I poke the wolf once more, and his eyes shine so fiercely that I think I must’ve gone too far this time. The wolf in him is snarling, and it’s going to eat me whole.
“We’ll see ‘bout that,” he whispers, letting go of my wrists and placing both his hands on my chest, grabbing at the fabric of my dress. He tugs on it so violently that I almost fall against him, a ripping sound clawing at my eardrums as he turns my dress into tatters. He rips it off of my body in a hurry, a lustful intent infusing every movement of his.
Finally throwing my dress to the side, he takes one step back and grins, looking at me smartly. His eyes meet my bra and then he goes for it, his hands looking for the clasp between my shoulder blades. He unhooks it and pulls the bra off me in a hurry, the fury in his movements making me so wet that my juices are dripping down my legs.
“Much better,” he says, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.
“I want you to use me,” I tell him, already knowing that it’s what he’s going to do. “I want you to do whatever you want to me,” I continue, not even knowing why I’m saying these things. Some deep and hidden side of me yearns for that - submission.
“On your knees,” he growls, his voice telling me that he’s fighting for control inside his own mind and body. On the one hand, he wants to simply go wild and jump on me; on the other, he wants to remain in control of everything that he does. He’s walking a thin line, like the sharp edge of a knife, and the tension between us is so thick you could cut through it with a wire.
Obeying him, I go down to my knees right in front of him. There’s a hard edge to his eyes as he starts unbuckling his belt; he pulls it out from its loop and then lets it slip from his fingers. I only realize that I’m holding my breath when he pulls his zipper down, the contour of his cock delineated under his black boxer briefs. Oh, God, he’s as big as Drake—with a cock like this, it’s hard to believe he’s not related to our stepdad.
Looking onto my eyes, he then takes his hands to the collar of his shirt and undoes the top button. He keeps on working his way down his shirt, popping button after button with restrained patience, and then he lets fall down his arms. Ropes of muscle move under his skin, his eight pack summoning all of my attention.
How can a man be so perfect? Cover models, move aside; Drake beats all of you. Every single inch of him oozes sex, and I’m talking the dirty and animalistic kind of sex. His body wasn’t made for lovemaking; it was made for fucking.
Still moving slowly, the tension in the air around us building until it becomes hard to breath, he kicks off his shoes. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them, standing only in his boxer briefs, his cock throbbing under the fabric.
“Go on,” he merely says, and I reach for the thick shape under his boxers, my fingers trembling. I swallow hard as I touch it with the tip of my fingers, slowly curling them around his length. I feel it pulse and throb against my hand, and then I just flatten my palm against it, my heart skipping a beat as I do it.
The knife of anticipation is carving deep lines into my mind, and I can no longer control what my body’s doing: hooking my fingers on his boxers, I tug them down as hard as I can, sending them down to his ankles. His cock springs free at once, and it does it so fast that it slaps the back of my hand.