Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Zane,” she moans out and tries to spread her legs wider.
“Remember who makes you feel this good.” I pull out and then slam into her. “Going to spend the rest of the night fucking this pussy to make sure you remember my fucking name,” I vow and she comes on my cock. I grit my teeth, pushing off my own orgasm before I pull out of her and rip the condom off. Her eyes widen, and I jerk my cock. “Squeeze those perfect tits together,” I tell her. She moves her arms, squeezing them together, as I aim my cock to come all over her tits. “That’s where it belongs,” I tell her as I spill my cum all over her. I let go of my cock. “Next time it’s down your throat.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She puts her head back, breath evening out. “Last time you fucked my mouth, you had me gagging.”
“Later,” I promise her with a quick kiss as I move to her and off her bed, my shorts still under my ass. “I’ll get a rag.”
“Okay,” she replies, not moving. “I’ll wait for you here. Save my energy for the mouth fucking I plan on getting.” I shake my head, laughing as I make my way into the bathroom.
“After,” I hear her voice once I open the cabinet and grab a face cloth, “we are going to discuss, one, how you found me.” I turn on the water. “Then two, how you know this house so well.”
I chuckle as I lean over and wash my face, wetting my beard before I wet the rag and look over to see her standing there in the doorway. “Tasted your cum on the way here,” she mentions when I stare at her tits and my eyes flare. “I have Kleenex by the bed,” she says and comes over to stand beside me, and she grabs the wet rag to finish cleaning her chest. “So are you going to tell me how you found me?” She looks up at me and I put my hand on her cheek.
Her gorgeous blue eyes look at me. “You’re beautiful,” I compliment softly, my heart hammering in my chest as I take in her beauty. I bend to kiss her lips softly as she puts one hand on my chest.
“Okay,” she says, then she looks down and walks out of the room, “I need water.” She grabs the black silk robe from the floor and puts it on before she walks out of the bedroom.
I follow her out of the bedroom, pulling up my shorts and heading to the kitchen. She opens the fridge. “You want something to eat?”
“No.” I lean against the counter as I watch her open the bottle of water and take a sip.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask her, sensing something is on her mind.
“Couple things,” she starts and the small wooden island is between us. “Why did you call me?”
“I don’t know,” I answer her honestly.
She tilts her head to the side and with the afterglow of me fucking her senseless, she takes my fucking breath away. “I think you can do better than that.”
“I honestly don’t fucking know.” I put one hand beside me on the counter. She looks at me, nodding her head before turning and opening the other side of the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream.
“Could it be…” She walks over to the side, opening the drawer, and pulling out a spoon before coming back in front of me but with the island still between us. She pulls the top off, taking some ice cream on her spoon. “Perhaps you were jealous?” I don’t answer her but my glare, I think, is enough of an answer. “That’s a yes,” she declares, taking another spoon of ice cream.
“What would you do if you walked in tonight and I was with someone else?” I ask her, turning the tables on her.
I expect her to glare at me. What I don’t expect is for her to snort. “I’d say good fucking luck since I’m better than ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the women out there.” She points her spoon at me. “So you’re welcome.”
I shake my head and look down. “You’re too young for me,” I admit it out loud. “You don’t need to be tied down to someone my age.” The thought of her actually with someone else makes me physically ill.
“You’re too old for me?” she asks me, leaning onto the counter as she eats her ice cream.
“Yes, you should stick to guys your own age.”
“Have you ever been married?” she asks me.
“The longest relationship I had was six months. I’m more focused on work than anything else,” I confess to her. “So no, I have never been married.”
“Strange, I have,” she replies and it’s my turn to be shocked. “I’m kidding. Age is just a fucking number. Would you feel better if I was thirty instead of twenty-five?”