Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
His cock says, It’s really fucking good to see you. Long, thick, hard, with more liquid arousal beading at the tip. A spark slides down my chest, a hot pulse that finds its way between my thighs. I clench them, my whole body melting. Hell, my mind is on fire as I wrap my hand around the base.
The skin is soft, his cock is hard, and I’m riding a roller coaster of thrills.
Lake seems to be too, since he grunts out a rough and dirty, “Fuck yes.”
From that. Just that. My hand on his dick.
Ha. I can do better than that. I dip my face, dart out my tongue, and lick the drop, savoring it.
I moan at the taste—salty, musky, masculine. And clean.
“Yessss,” he says, sounding a little lost already, and I’ve barely tasted him. But I want to make him feel as incredible right now as he’s made me feel these last few weeks. Squeezing the base, I drag my tongue around the crown, licking the head, then playfully sucking it past my lips.
I drag the tip into my mouth. Just the tip though as I take my sweet time, making sure he’s watching me, making sure he’s losing his mind as I execute the true trial for this red lipstick.
“How’s it holding up? The color?” I ask ever so innocently, then wrap my lips around the tip of his dick again.
“Not sure yet. Better try a little harder.”
“Harder, you say?” I ask, letting him fall from my lips. And since I want to ace this test, I drag my hand up his length, keeping the pressure on as I watch him.
“Yeah,” he says on a strangled grunt. “And wetter.”
I laugh, but I comply. Oh yes, do I comply. With my hand wrapped around his pulsing cock, I draw him back into my mouth.
I’m nice and slow, easing him in, playing as he goes. By the time he’s halfway in my mouth, Lake is groaning loudly, then wrapping a hand tightly around my skull. The sounds that fall from his mouth are pure caveman grunts. Filthy groans. Needy sighs.
His excitement is like the carnival game where you hit the hammer. And bam. The bell is ringing. He’s gripping my head and rocking into my mouth and breathing so hard already that I feel like the queen of the world. Or really of his world, here on my knees, with my panties outrageously wet as I tease him into my mouth.
Every moan he makes sends a direct line of pleasure straight to my core. I’m aching as I draw him in another inch.
“Fuck, Remy,” he moans, gazing down at the sight of me with his dick nearly down my throat. “Your mouth. Your perfect fucking mouth.”
I think I’m glowing from the praise.
I’m certainly soaked from it.
But I also want to make some things clear. I let go for a brief second. “Fuck my perfect mouth then,” I urge.
He blinks. Parts his lips. Shudders. Then shakes his head. “No.”
No? No? What just happened? “Why?” I ask, and I hate that I sound terrified.
He grips my chin, strokes it with his thumb. “Because if you take me in your mouth for another second, I’m going to blow. I’m going to come in two seconds. And that is not going to happen the first time.”
First time. Those words vibrate in the air. They shimmer with the implication that there will be a second.
“You will?” I ask, a little enchanted. I kind of want to know what that’s like.
He lets out a harsh, ragged breath. “I fucking assure you I’m this close and it’s not okay.”
This close.
His heated words echo. I’m this close.
I didn’t know that was what I needed to hear today—that naked truth. But I did, and I fight off a smile as he tucks his this close dick back into his boxer briefs.
I wish he’d let me finish, but it’s such a wicked thrill to wield this kind of power.
He offers me a hand, and I take it, letting him tug me to my feet. He’s standing in front of me in his dark sapphire suit, pants zipped, looking sophisticated and sexually frustrated. It’s such a good look. He drags a hand through his hair, then blows out an irritated breath.
But maybe not that irritated since he tilts his head, dips his face toward mine, and presses a gentle caress of a kiss to my cheek, before whispering, “My turn.”
I picture myself spread out on his bed, a midday meal for him. It’s heady, but also scary since there’s no way I’ll finish quickly. If at all.
I won’t be the reason his focus is off on the ice this afternoon. “No. You have a game day nap to take. So get this suit off and put your shorts back on.” I pause, tap dancing my fingers along the open waistband of his pants. “It’s time for my nap lesson.”