Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
But this?
This was something beyond indulgence.
Her H-cup breasts, full and luscious, spilled from the delicate pink lace of her bra, the intricate embroidery barely containing the sheer magnificence of her curves.
My cock throbbed painfully at the sight, stiffening so hard it nearly made me dizzy.
The biggest.
The most beautiful.
I had never seen, never touched, never even imagined anything like them.
And now that I had her in front of me, standing there with that rich dark brown skin wrapped in silk and lace, those breasts plush and heavy, the dusky peaks teasing me through the lace—I would never let them go.
My jaw tightened as I fought the primal, animalistic urge to claim them with my mouth, my hands, my tongue—all at once.
I reached out, almost reverent, tracing my fingers along the scalloped lace, feeling the decadent weight of her breasts beneath my touch.
Soft.
So impossibly soft, yet so firm, so full, as if they had been sculpted for the sole purpose of filling my hands, my mouth, my obsession.
"Mon amour. . ." My voice came out low, guttural, thick with pure, unfiltered desire.
She shifted as if she could feel the madness she had ignited in me.
I cupped them fully, both hands barely able to contain the sheer, overwhelming size of her.
My thumbs dragged over the lace-covered peaks, feeling the way she trembled under my touch.
Perfect.
Fucking perfect.
I wanted everything.
To peel the lace away with my teeth.
To press my tongue against the deep valley between them, kissing, tasting, marking.
To bury my face in them, to savor their warmth, their weight, the way they spilled over my hands like a feast made for a starving man.
I growled, squeezing just enough to make her gasp.
"You were made for this, chérie." My lips curled into a smirk, and my thumbs flicked against her nipples.
She let out the softest moan, and fuck, I nearly lost it.
The things I plan to do with these.
I could already see it.
A future moment, a night where I would take my time, strip her bare, and watch those perfect, big soft mounds bounce as she rode me.
Or better yet, I would have her on her back. Her lips parted, her big, dark brown eyes looking up at me with that delicious mixture of surrender and mischief, her breasts pressed together, forming the most perfect, tight, wet heat.
I could see myself there, kneeling before her, guiding my cock between those breasts, slick with oil, or perhaps the mess we had already made.
My hands would slide under the heavy curves, pressing them together, trapping me in their warmth.
I would thrust between those breasts, slow at first, letting her feel every thick inch of my cock dragging along her skin, teasing the sensitive peaks, watching as her dark nipples hardened from the friction.
She would moan for me, that pretty mouth open, her tongue flicking out just barely as if she knew exactly how to drive me insane.
My pace would quicken, my breath ragged, the sound of wet, obscene pleasure filling the space around us.
My cock would glide between them, hot, swollen, desperate, the tip brushing against her lips each time I thrust forward.
And then—that final moment.
When I would growl her name, fists tightening around her breasts, body locking up as hot, thick ropes of white cum spilled onto her throat, her chin, her beautiful, flushed cheeks.
FUCK!!!
Pre-cum spilled into my pants.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself back to the present, to the way she shivered under my hands, completely unaware of how close I was to losing it right here, right now.
Not yet.
But soon.
And when I finally had her like that, she wouldn’t just feel worshiped.
She would feel owned.
Groaning, I leaned down toward her breasts and let my mouth hover over the lace, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating scent of her skin.
"Tell me. . .has any man ever truly worshipped these?"
Her breath caught. "No."
A dark, wicked satisfaction burned through me. "Then let me be the first. And the last."
And with that, I lowered my head, sinking into pure heaven.
My cock twitched violently against my slacks, demanding to be freed, but I needed to taste her first.
I needed my mouth on her breasts again.
I couldn’t wait another second.
The lace had to go.
It was an insult to her beauty, to my hunger, to the worship she was about to receive.
I slipped my fingers under the delicate straps and yanked them down her arms, making her gasp.
My other hand slid to her back, fumbling with the clasp for only a moment before I tore it apart, the small hooks snapping under the force of my need.
And then—perfection.
Her full, heavy breasts spilled free, dark, aching nipples pebbled tight from hungered desire, begging for my mouth.
My cock pulsed, the sight of her so devastating that another drop of pre-cum smeared against my boxer briefs, thick and hot.
I let out a slow, guttural groan.
She was going to ruin me.