Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Nero moans when I place the tub of ice cream onto the section of the counter he cleared away before I stab my thumbs into the waistband of my pants. My ass jiggles and my breasts bounce when I pull the slinky material to my knees.
My fumble as I struggle to remove the rigid material is usually when I’d dive for the covers to hide my inflamed cheeks. Something stops me this time.
Or should I say, someone.
Nero watches me like I’m performing onstage. He’s casually dressed in jeans, a white crew neck shirt, and black boots, but he is the essence of suave. He is a beautifully orgasm-inspiring man, and he knows it.
His smirk announces this, not to mention how he grabs his crotch to outline the massive bulge unconcealed by the zipper in his jeans when I finally get my pants to cooperate with my plan.
He’s so cocky my confidence should falter in his presence.
It doesn’t.
I want to be wanted by him.
Consumed by him.
Fucked by him.
I want him to remind me that beauty comes in all sizes, and that real men know this.
My pants are discarded at the side of the kitchen, halfway over Tempy’s head. Her acrobatic routine to celebrate Nero’s unexpected yet highly craved arrival exhausted her to the point she is sleeping with her tongue hanging out.
I step closer to Nero, trembling all over. A squeak pops from my lips when he lifts me to sit on the counter, and strain doesn’t fetter his face. He positions me where he wants me without a single sign of discomfort shown, as if I am weightless.
Even when I was in my prime and at my ideal weight, I was never tossed around like a ragdoll.
I’m tall for a girl, which means the scales always tiptoed too close to what Roy classified as a “safe lift.” That limited our activities to missionary, missionary, and you guessed it… missionary.
As Nero runs the back of his hand down the seam of my pussy, he raises his eyes to my face. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, pleased I forwent the small snippet of coverage my panties would have awarded me if I had left them on, but seemingly still disappointed.
I learn why when he says, “I know I said you could keep your shirt, but I’m gonna need to see your tits, printsessa. They feature heavily during my lengthy showering routines, and I don’t want to miss the opportunity of adding another handful of mental snapshots to the vault load in my head.”
As images of him stroking his cock over me squash my thighs together, I grip the hem of my shirt and whip it over my head.
My breasts fall heavily to my chest as air hisses from Nero’s mouth.
I’m braless, and it seems as if he has only just noticed.
A tinge of shyness encroaches me when I realize I’m stark naked and he hasn’t even undone the laces on his boots.
It shifts to greedy need when he takes no time reminding me that I’m the platter of his indulgence and that no man turns up to a buffet butt naked.
With the lid of the ice cream removed, and the soft, melted gooeyness on the rim edged by Nero’s fat fingers, he raises his hand to my face.
Maple syrup and pecan flavors swamp my senses when he drags his index finger over my top lip before he slowly pushes it inside my mouth.
I moan as a burst of flavors ignite my taste buds, then growl when Nero returns the favor.
His mouth swamps my pussy like he knows the purpose of fat on a pubic bone before he drags his tongue up the lines of my pussy.
I’m tall for a girl, but my position on the counter and Nero’s impressive height means he has no trouble commanding both my mouth and my pussy at the same time.
When he circles the nervy bud at the apex of my vagina, I playfully nibble on the fingers he refilled with ice cream two seconds after he curls his tongue around my clit.
My ass nearly vaults off the counter when he makes true on his pledge to go bite for a bite. His teeth graze the hood of my clit before his tongue hits it with back-to-back flicks like I do to his fingers.
As tingles race across my stomach, I lick his fingers, my speed fast and unrelenting.
Nero matches my eagerness with as much attention to detail. He plunges his tongue inside my pussy before sliding it back to my clit, where he makes stars form with back-to-back licks.
“More,” he demands when I lick and suck his fingers clean.
I’m so desperate to come I’ve eaten over half of the container of ice cream.
Almost absentmindedly, Nero shoves the small canister of French vanilla and pecan ice cream my way before he grips my meaty thighs, takes a seat on my stool, then drags me across the counter until my ass is suspended off the edge.