Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
It gives me far more pleasure than it should. Never in my life had I hooked up with a virgin before I started doing this with Oliver, and I’m starting to get too addicted to it. Even my own first time was with someone who’d done plenty before they met me.
Oliver is special. Everything about him is.
He only knows what it’s like to come for me.
Only knows what it’s like to be mine.
And nothing’s ever felt quite like that to me before.
My cock aches between my legs as I swallow around him, taking every drop. And the moment I pull off of his cock he’s already moving on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to meet me in a kiss, like he’s needy for that, too.
“Can we try something?” he murmurs against my lips.
“I just got harder from you even saying that, so, yes,” I tell him.
His eyelashes flick low, then he looks back up at me. “I don’t have any lube here. But I want you between my thighs. Want to see if you can come like that.”
“Oliver Ashford,” I murmur, running my thumb along his lip. “Are you suggesting thigh fucking?”
“Nobody calls it thigh fucking.”
“I do.”
I give his body a shove so that he’s lying on his side and I’m behind him. I reach down and shove away my sweatpants, stripping naked from the waist down. I lean over and give the back of his shoulder a bite, bucking my hips forward so my cock connects with his body.
My tip pushes up against the tight cleft just below his ass, and he parts his legs just a little for me, letting me shove into the gap between his thighs.
He closes them tight again around me.
And I take it slow.
I buck my hips in that steady motion as his tight muscle clenches around me.
“For not having any lube, this is pretty fucking good,” I utter behind his ear.
“You need to come, too, boyfriend,” he says in a sultry tone.
Christ.
My cock throbs between his legs. It’s not typical for Oliver to call me that, and the sound of it on his lips is a little too tempting.
How goddamn addicted am I?
My words practically come out like a growl. “Don’t call me that.”
“You call me that all the time,” he protests, then clenches his legs tighter around me.
I let out a low moan and keep fucking the spot just below his ass, and something about being this close to his ass but not being able to take it is maddening.
“You’re going to fucking miss me when this is over,” I tell him.
Some kind of monster is rearing its head in me, and I don’t have the control to make it go away.
“I think you’ll miss me just as much, boyfriend.”
“God,” I hiss at him and grip his hips hard, digging my fingers into his skin. “Want you to think about this, when it’s all over. How I’m about to come down your fucking legs for your Christmas morning present.”
“You want to be on my mind like that, don’t you?”
“I’m going to live on repeat in your head,” I utter. “No one else will ever give you what I do.”
“And nobody else will do anything for you like I will.”
I exhale against the top of his back.
I love being close to him like this.
Spooning him from behind, practically pantomiming that I’m fucking him.
I need to come.
My head isn’t clear right now, and I know it’s just because I need release.
“You’re mine,” I whisper near his ear. “I think you always have been, Oliver.”
“Then use me like I’m yours.”
I groan and pump my cock harder between his thighs, sensation pooling low in my groin until I can’t hold back the wave anymore.
A full feeling crests inside me and I move my hand up until it’s around the front of his throat.
I keep my hand there, just cupped around his throat, as I let go, coming over and over as he squeezes around me with the hard muscle of his thighs.
I love this.
I love this so fucking much.
Too much, and I don’t know what to do.
My breathing is heavy as I slide my cock out from between his legs and he turns backward a little on the bed, moving his head so that he looks in my eyes.
I kiss him so he won’t speak.
I press my lips against his mouth before he can say a single thing that’ll break my goddamn brain again.
Because if I’m kissing him like this, he can’t call me boyfriend.
Christmas, somehow, starts out perfectly.
Right before dawn, Oliver and I fall asleep faster than either of us probably expected after we both came.
At nine o’clock on the dot, the faint smell of cinnamon, bacon, and maple comes floating through the air, and I wake up first, turning over toward Ollie in bed.