Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Dad’s in the garage,” I murmur, tilting my head so my hair brushes Jack’s bicep. “You know how long it takes him to find anything out there.”
Jack finally looks at me, and for a second, it’s just us. Blue eyes, harsh and masculine, searching my face for any sign I’m joking.
I’m not.
“I’m forty-five,” he rasps. “You’re—what, twenty?”
“Twenty-one,” I say, letting my lips brush the shell of his ear. “Old enough to know what I want.”
He tries to shift away, but the couch is too soft, and my hand is already on his thigh. I feel the heat of him under the denim, the corded muscle tensing under my touch. The power is intoxicating, better than any drug, better than the private cam shows where I am untouchable and invisible. Here, I have him trapped.
“Age means nothing to me,” I whisper. “I want you, Jack.”
He closes his eyes, lets his dark head fall back against the cushion. There’s a war going on behind those eyelids, but I know I’m winning.
He tries one last time. “Your dad’s my best friend. If he finds out—”
I cut him off by crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his hips. For a second he doesn’t move, like his brain is refusing to process the fact of me, warm and heavy, sitting right on top of him. Then his hands come up, fast, one gripping each side of my waist. I think he means to push me off, but instead he pulls me closer. Our faces are inches apart.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re making me insane, Eliza.”
“Good,” I murmur, and I grind down just a little, letting my denim shorts catch on the bulge in his jeans. He groans, low and helpless, and suddenly his hands are everywhere—up my back, into my hair, squeezing my ass through the thin cotton.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a tortured voice, those blue eyes staring into mine. “God, I’m so fucked.”
I merely smile and take the moment to tilt forward, mouth almost touching his. “Kiss me,” I whisper. “Please.”
That’s all it takes. Jack’s lips crash into mine, all control and reason gone. He tastes like beer and spruce and male musk, and when his tongue slips between my lips, I bite down gently, just to hear the sound he makes.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
He’s rough, hands running over me like he’s trying to memorize every inch, and when he drags my hips down, I can feel how badly he wants me.
I grind harder against his covered dick, the pressure sending sparks up my spine. I’m wet, and I know he knows it, because the only thing between us is denim and the insane heat of wanting. He breaks the kiss, panting. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Don’t,” I whisper right back. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His hands go under my shirt, hot and hungry, and he palms my big breasts through the thin cotton. I gasp, arching into him, and for a second, nothing else in the world exists.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans again, expression tortured as he pinches my stiff nipples. “I’m so fucked.”
At that moment, the fridge door slams in the garage.
Panic. I scramble off his lap, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and Jack yanks a throw pillow into place, adjusting himself just as Dad wanders back in, six-pack in hand.
Dad strolls in, unaware that anything’s wrong. “You guys want anything else? I found the beef sticks, and goddamn, but I have no idea why Nancy hid them away.”
Jack looks normal enough, even if he has a cushion in his lap. His black hair is still smooth, and his nostrils flare slightly, but otherwise, he appears normal. So I try to look as innocent as possible while smoothing my golden locks. “No thanks, I’m good, Dad,” I say. My voice is so breathless, I half expect Gerald to notice. But he’s already turned his attention to the game, oblivious.
Meanwhile, Jack sits rigid, knuckles white on the pillow. I can’t help but notice that his thighs are tense, and I know if I pulled the cushion off his lap, he’d be sporting a giant boner. So I do something bad. While Gerald’s staring at the screen, screaming at the ref about something, I quickly lift my shirt and flash Jack. Yes, I show him my big boobies by pulling down the cups of my bra, and gently jiggle the giant ivory orbs as he watches.
“These are for you,” I whisper softly. “They’re waiting for your lips, Uncle Jack.”
His mouth opens and closes silently. I could swear that his cock twitches again as a flush goes up his neck. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move an inch. Instead, the rest of the game goes by in a blur, and I barely have any idea who wins in the end. But by the time the last touchdown is scored, I’m more than ready for the tension to break. My dad screams and howls with triumph, pumping his fists as I smile at Jack.