Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
His encouragement causes new waves of wetness to soak the digit.
Inspires my free grasp to graze my nipple.
Tap it.
“Do that shit again, baby,” spurs the man currently cradling my head, dick continuously carving itself a path down the back of my throat. “Spank it.”
Another light slap is delivered to my stiffening nub.
“Again.”
Once more, I swat at the sensitive spot.
“Again.”
This time a sting is felt.
Appreciated.
Enjoyed.
“You’re doing so good, Beloved,” he gushes after a sharp hiss. “Pinch it.”
My thumb and index instantly squeeze together inspiring my drenched muscles to imitate the intimate action.
“Pull.”
The first tug barely instilling a response pushes me to deliver another.
And another.
And another.
To increase the strength.
Speed.
Force my mouth to match the escalating pacing.
“Keep that shit up for me, Beloved,” he praises at the same time his cock callously invades my throat. “Touch yourself.” Discomfort builds over the repeated grating of my knees against the hardwood, yet delectation effortlessly buries it underneath increasingly brutal bucks and unrelenting yanks and boorish huffs. “Fuck yourself.”
A mixture of gargles and cries vibrate around his thick shaft.
“Faster.”
There’s no hesitation in following his command.
“Harder.”
Doing so prompts me to moan more.
My pussy to clamp down on my middle finger tighter.
“Like that’s my cock deep inside you…”
Greedily mewling over the notion can’t be stopped.
And neither can the grinding of my hips.
Or constricting of my throat.
“Like you want me there.”
Spit slips past my spread lips as I work to swallow more of him.
“Like you need me there.”
As I struggle to keep our stares connected.
“Like I’m the only one that fucking belongs there.”
Faint pulsing is given in warning.
Anticipation.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
Gags and gurgles blend with the clanks and clamors of the objects being knocked off the shelves he’s bumping into.
“Open wide,” J.T. barbarously demands during a forceful yank backwards so that his tip is back to resting on the edge of my swollen lips. “Swallow every last drop while you come for me, Beloved.”
Blazing bursts instantly skate their way across my thick, eager muscle, sloppily spraying the inside of my cheeks in their race to be the first to find their way down my throat. Guttural grunt after grunt is attached to each splash, and the sound combined with the ferocious rubbing of my clit, shoves me off the top of the pyramid to join him in unmatched ecstasy. Hot, heavy pants pour from me in between my gluttonous gulping, needing the salty streams to remind my sore knees, my contorted toes, my trembling thighs, why it was all worth it.
And it was all worth it.
I can’t remember the last guy I hooked up with that not only cared about me getting mine but insisted on it.
Add that to the long list of reasons why I would like to make this fake relationship real.
And why I hate the fact that it probably can’t be.
Chapter 4
J.T.
I stop pressing the Enterprise shaped cookie cutter firmly into the plate-sized pancake to find Bryn’s crystal gaze. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“You better be talking about my choice of activities today and not about the amount of syrup I’m putting on my ship,” sasses the woman on the resort couch across from me.
“It looks like when it was submerged in the ocean on Nibiru.”
“Star Trek Into Darkness is still the greatest Star Trek movie in the Kelvin timeline.”
“Eh…” interjects Nevin Singh, my personal security guard, summoning our glares over to the chaise lounge he’s relaxing on. “Beyond was better.”
“Come on, dude,” leaves me at the same time I abandon the tool to reach for my vibrating phone. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“You three are seriously giving me a headache,” Jeffrey Hurst, or Lurch as Bryn prefers to call her security member, sighs. “This is too much nerd for those of us not invested in this nerd shit.”
“How is your lack of good taste our fault?” Bryn sneers on a giant bite of her syrup-soaked ship.
He doesn’t bother arguing.
Just grunts.
Resumes his silent, lurking demeanor.
That’s the thing about the guy.
He’s nailed the whole seen but not heard in a room thing.
Singh hasn’t.
However, he’s also more open to standing down in a crowded vicinity than Hurst is.
Like yesterday.
Which is how I ended up getting the world’s best blow job in a mini golf supply closet.
The fist bump Bryn delivered over cold beers and Pike pepperoni pizza was epic.
“How can you taste anything besides syrup?” I playfully poke while swiping open the work text on my phone.
“How come you can barely do anything besides work?” Peering up has me watching her suck the sticky mixture off her thumb. “It’s very Wes of you.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Still very Wes.”
“We’re on a launch deadline.”
“Extra Wes.”
“No one else can handle this but me.”
“Greatwhitehavemercy, dude,” she open mouth snickers prior to having another bite. “It’s like there’s two of him.”
Whatever retort I prepare to throw out is cut short by my vibrating device.