Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Can I ride you?” He looks up at me as I kneel over him.
“Yes. My boy gets whatever he wants. This was your day.”
“It’s your birthday,” he reminds me.
“I already got what I want.” I press my lips to his, James’s hands now running up and down my back, looking up at me with watery eyes again.
“Me.”
“You.” I kiss him again. “We good?”
“Yes, Sir. I freshened up earlier.”
“Because you knew you’d need some dick?”
“Your dick. I knew I’d need your dick.”
I slick my fingers with lube, then press one inside him before using two, stretching him, fucking him with them, alternating between kissing him and sucking his dick while I get him ready to take me. We’re both hard as stone. I’ve known I’m in love with him for a while now, but this will be different because James knows how I feel, and I know how he feels.
He kept my sticky notes.
Once he’s ready, I lie on my back. “Climb on,” I tell him, holding my dick for him.
Like always, he listens, straddling me, the two of us working together to get the angle right as he slides down on my cock. His body is so hot, so tight, so fucking perfect that I think he might kill me.
“Fuck, so good, dreamer. You’re so fucking good.”
“You too,” he says breathlessly. “I love having you inside me. I’d always have you inside me if I could, stretching me, possessing me. I’m yours.”
“Mine.” I thrust up hard into him, making him cry out, then bite down on his hand not to be too loud. My hands grip his waist, holding with everything I can as I fuck him, make love to him, everything all at once.
James moves with me, and then I let him take over, let him ride my dick like he’s meant to do, let him take it and show himself that it’s his, all of me is his. I might be his Sir, but he has as much control over me as I have over him.
“So good,” he says, raising and lowering himself on my cock.
I spit in my hand, wrap it around his dick and stroke him while he takes what he needs from me, what I give willingly and eagerly. “Come for me. I want it. Want you to shoot your load all over me before I give you mine, before my little hole is all filled with his Sir’s cum just like he’s supposed to be.”
“Oh fuck,” James grits out before he spurts, cock twitching in my hand, cum shooting from him, landing on my stomach, chest, and neck. I keep working his dick, drain everything I can out of him while he still works my cock with his ass. I want it to last forever, but I can’t stop myself, can’t help losing myself to the pleasure, eyes blurry, room spinning as I come inside him.
He works everything out of my balls, keeps going until there’s nothing left, then collapses on top of me. “You love me,” he says again, as if he still doesn’t believe it.
“I do.”
We lie there together, both of us coming down from our high. Eventually, we make our way into his en suite together and clean up. I go to my clothes, pulling on my underwear, then my pants.
“You’re leaving?” he asks.
“I don’t want to. Believe me, I don’t. I just wasn’t sure if you’re ready for me to stay.” I know what Nash said earlier, and how he and Sadie are okay with us, but I don’t want to push James.
“Stay. Please, Sir.”
“Okay,” I answer, folding my clothes and placing them on the chair, before turning out the light and climbing into bed with him, right where I belong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
James
The past week has been like a dream. Colton stayed over a few nights, the kids know about us, and…everything’s good. For the first time in my life, everything is good.
Today is the kids’ last day before winter break, but there are a few days left here at the university, which means we’re all busy with finals—everyone trying to get help at the last minute when they’ve let their grades suffer for the rest of the semester. It’s always like this and such a wild concept to me because I never had it in me to wait until the last minute. It’s always frustrated me as a professor, but honestly, I don’t think anything can bother me right now because, again, I feel good and just want to hold on to that.
I look up at the door when my next student appointment arrives. “Come in,” I tell the young woman, who takes the chair across from me. “What can I do for you, Ms. Wilson?”
“I’m really worried about my grade.” She goes on and on about all the reasons her grade is what it is, and all the reasons I should allow her to make up an assignment, wanting study tips to help improve her grade on the final.