Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“It’s all right. Try rollin’ your lips a little so your teeth are covered. Perfect. You’re fuckin’ perfect, Sal.”
She covers her teeth with her lips and goes in for another try. My heart keeps swelling the more she tries. If she’s trying, she’s comfortable. She’s invested.
She’s swirling her tongue around my head. She’s sucking on it. Kissing it. She’s putting her hands on my hips, and she’s guiding me deeper. Then she’s reaching between her legs to touch herself.
Lord have mercy.
The need for release coils low in my center. I thrust forward at the same time she bobs, and I go deep. Too deep, my head hitting the soft tissue at the back of her throat.
She gags. Her eyes water. My pulse skips.
“Aw, shit, Sal, I’m—”
But she just shakes her head. She swallows. Swallows again, taking me deeper, centimeter by centimeter.
She pushes her limits. For me. With me.
“Remember,” I grunt, “you swallow.”
In reply, she gently arcs her thumb over my Jack and Coke tattoo.
My entire body jerks. I’m overtaken by blinding, searing sensation that cuts through my core and has me coming in hot, hard spurts inside Sally’s mouth.
There’s a lot of it. I feel it. I worry Sally’s going to choke, so I pull out a little bit, allowing her to swallow.
I watch the lines of her throat work as she does exactly that, my tip still in her mouth. Cum gathers at the corner of her lips.
“Look at you, doing so good. You look beautiful like this. So fucking beautiful, Sunshine, with me all over you.”
Now I wanna come on her tits. On her stomach. On her back and between her legs.
No way five weeks is gonna be long enough to do everything I wanna do with Sally.
I’m gripped by the fierce urge to ask her to stay. Spend the night. Hell, spend the whole weekend. I can already picture it. First, I’ll take her home. I’ll clean her up in the shower, and this time the water will be piping hot. I’ll have her put on one of my shirts—no pants or panties—and I’ll light a fire in the bedroom. We’ll fuck in my bed. I’ll make her dinner. Make cocktails. I’ll fuck her again. Then we can watch a show, maybe a movie.
We’ll sleep naked. Wake up and fuck before coffee. After, too, because why the hell not? We’ll have breakfast, and then I’ll go down on her on the couch in my living room. We’ll watch another show. We’ll fuck again.
And then what?
We ain’t riding off into the sunset, that’s for damn sure.
Everyone would know. They’d find out about it somehow. Sally not going home to her parents’ house is about as big of a red flag as you can get. John B and Patsy sure as hell wouldn’t approve of their darling princess messing around with the likes of me. Cash would resort to murder, no question.
Would it be worth it though?
Clearly, something is wrong with me. Nice, normal, sane people don’t consider lighting their life on fire just to temporarily keep a girl in their bed.
And that’s what Sally deserves—a nice, normal, sane guy who wants the same things she does. She deserves the world. But I’m just a small-town boy whose hands are literally tied.
Sally can’t stay. I’d be an asshole to ask her to.
Then again, she did agree not to be with anyone else—
Nope. Not gonna read into that. I can’t.
I’m still vibrating with the aftershocks of my orgasm, but I’m able to bite out, “Untie me.”
Nodding, Sally gets to her feet. I don’t miss the way she winces, putting a hand on the small of her back.
“You okay?”
“Who knew blow jobs were such a workout?” She smirks, and that’s when I see the goose bumps that cover her skin. Her nipples are tight pink points.
She’s cold.
Or, like me, she’s completely, utterly overwhelmed by what just happened, and her body is going haywire.
She presses her tits against my arm as she unties my hands. My wrists smart, and when I look down, I see they’re red.
“The rope got you too,” Sally says with a frown, gently tracing her fingertips over the marks. She looks up. “We make a mess of each other, don’t we?”
You got me feeling a whole mess of things I shouldn’t.
I can’t ask her to stay.
I can’t tell her I love her.
But I can warm her up. Make her feel loved. Wanted. Needed.
Because that’s what this fierceness feels like when I look at Sally and she looks back—need.
I need to keep this girl in my life. Once again, that means letting her go.
Or does it mean I screw my courage to the sticking place and tell her how I feel? ’Cause I’m already sick of all this pretending.
Does it mean I never let her go again?
The blood rushes back into my biceps and shoulders as I reach up to take Sally’s face in my hands. She likes it when I do that.