Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
I had my fair share of first kisses. Some men were tentative as if they believed holding back was the sign of a gentleman. Others were too rough, too slobbery, or they tried to choke me with their tongue. Tongue Boy being Daniel.
Yes, there were all sorts of first kisses, but none of them were the best... because the best was happening to me right then. Sweeping me along into fluttery, flowery, drug-like euphoria that melted my bones—dropping me helplessly into his arms.
There was nothing gentlemanly about the hungry, punishing kiss that battled my tongue into surrendering, then sent my heart galloping away.
Micah tore my clothes off in a flurry, flinging the wet garments around the place with a chorus of wet slaps.
Panic seized me as he drew back, feasting on my naked body like he hadn’t seen it in seven months—when he actually hasn’t seen it ever!
What if Sue helped herself to a few new concealable tattoos and piercings I knew nothing about in the last ten years? Am I literally about to be caught with my pants down!?
“Damn, girl, I swear you only get more beautiful with every passing year. It’s very unfair,” he said, running his fingers down my wet cheeks. “Evil should age like a banana.”
“Racist,” I snapped, startling a laugh out of him. “And what happened to best behavior?”
“Why should I behave?”
The world spun—tossing me around and then depositing me blinking and bewildered on his shoulders.
“You haven’t cum yet.”
Heat beat against my neck, running down and around my shoulders—streaming down my stomach and hungrily splashing down on Micah’s nose, cheeks, and forehead—as if there was no other place it wanted to be.
He pressed me against the cool tile. Kneeling down, Micah nuzzled my stomach in a way that wasn’t even sexual, but still shot my blood pressure through the roof.
“Mi—”
He dove down, burying his head between my legs so fast, I hadn’t finished gasping on his name before his tongue slipped between my lower lips. If I thought he wasn’t shy about a kiss, that was nothing compared to how he approached giving head. The man ravaged my pussy like a starving man devoured a buffet.
Tongue plunging in and out of my well. Fingers digging into my thighs. Thick, wet hair rubbing against my clit. Growls and moans rumbled from his throat and crumbled my core to dust.
“Ah!” I cried out, doubling over and nearly pitching off his shoulders. “Ah, Micah, yes!”
He slipped down, resting me on the rim of the tub. I was a puppet in his hands, helpless to move let alone think of stopping him as he spread my knees, and lapped me up.
“W-wow,” I choked, toes curling up into my bones. “That’s— Hera, help me, that’s good— Ah!”
Micah latched on to my clit and sucked like he was trying to take the thing off. My head flung back, colliding with the tile and ringing pain through my skull.
I didn’t care.
Pleasure rocketed through my body, flooding every cell and nerve ending with fiery-hot flames.
It had been a long time, and I meant a long time, since I had even semi-decent sex. Even before things went sour with Daniel and we were in love, the sex was crap because the guy was such a selfish lover. Once he shot his top, he completely tapped out and left me to take care of myself.
That was a big part of why I suggested the sex tapes. I thought it’d give our sex life some much needed spice, and heat things up enough for me to stay interested. But that was Satan, and this was Micah.
Five minutes under his ministrations, and I knew our sex life wouldn’t need any more extra spice. The man was a five-alarm fire with nothing but his hand, his dick, and a magazine, but the two of us together...?
Three fingers slid past my entrance, and spread—stretching my walls for the coming reckoning—and I swear I opened my eyes to see if true sparks were coming off my body, ready and willing to set us both alight.
“Oh, fuck, yes, right there,” I moaned, eyes rolling up in my head. “Ah!”
“Oooh, I’m loving the soundtrack, baby.” Pulling back, he positioned his hand, and started drilling my pussy like a jackhammer. “Did you become a screamer for your side piece?”
“Ahh!” I screamed, legs flying up and heels banging on the porcelain. “There is—no side piece!”
“Well, you would say that,” he replied, amusement lacing his voice. “Because the prenup says you’ll get nothing from divorcing Rhodes if you’re caught cheating.”
“No one is getting divorced,” I forced through gritted teeth. I swear, men perfected the art of making women want to punch them in the head even in the midst of being brought to orgasm. “You want rid of me so badly, you can keep your money and I’ll just go. How many times do I have to say it?”