Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I have to press my palm to the bulge in my pants to keep myself from coming hands-free right here on the couch. I let my touch stray up the smooth skin of Verity’s thigh and slowly push her panties aside, slipping my fingers over her, which are instantly soaked.
“Shit,” I groan, exploring her and relishing the sloppy sound of her weeping body. “You’re so wet.”
“For us,” Petra reminds me. “Right, baby?”
Verity rolls her hips into my touch.
“God, she wants it.” Petra chuckles, delight in her face as she watches her girlfriend. “Give it to her, Monk.”
I slide one finger inside, and Verity’s muscles contract around me, a low moan rolling from her throat.
“Give her another,” Petra says, her eyes lust-glazed as she watches Verity writhe.
I rub my thumb over her and slide another finger in, pushing deeper. Verity’s back arches, her legs dropping open and her eyes sliding closed. I work between her thighs and Petra sucks one nipple and rolls the other between two fingers.
“Jesus,” Verity gasps, squeezing trembling hands into fists at her side. “I can’t… Oh, my God.”
“If you want to taste her,” Petra says. “You better do it now because once we get in that bedroom, this pussy is mine. Your dick will be in her mouth, and I’ll strap it on and hit it from the back.”
I drop to my knees, running my hands up the length of Verity’s thighs. I tug the cotton candy–pink silk down and off and stare at the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. She’s so dripping wet, there’s a spot on the skirt beneath her. My mouth floods at the promise of her on my lips; of sucking her, licking her, biting her. Devouring her. I pull her legs over my shoulders, and she slumps down a little, her shoulders dropping. Petra kisses her neck and plays with her tits, but Verity’s eyes, narrowed to lusty slits, watch me from under long, curling lashes. I don’t look away when my tongue takes the first swipe.
“Oh!” She arches, her knees pressing together reflexively, but I pry them back open and spread her wide, burying my face there and feasting like a starved man. I lose track of her moans and whimpers, so consumed by my own hunger. I drown in heat and sweetness, my lips and chin and cheeks soaked with the taste and smell of her. I make growling, hungry sounds, completely unselfconscious and almost feral to have her like this. Her girlfriend watching me take her apart, lick by lick, hearing her moans, heightens the tension and the pleasure to something almost unbearable.
When I glance up, Verity’s still watching me, her brows knitted and her bottom lip, wet and full, trapped between her teeth. I don’t look away from her, and I don’t let up until her knees squeeze almost painfully around my head. I rub my hands over her legs and cup her bare ass, bringing her as close as I can. Petra said this was as close as I would get, and I don’t waste a moment. Even when the first wave hits Verity, and she screams, her eyes remain locked with mine. It is the single most intimate moment of my life, staring into those midnight-dark eyes, the brown irises swallowed by lust. I slow the motion of my lips and tongue as she comes down.
Petra is still kissing and tweaking Verity’s nipples, but I’d almost forgotten she was there. For the last few moments, there were only two people in this room. In this universe. I finally meet a girl who makes the whole world disappear.
And she belongs to someone else.
THREE
Verity
A few hours later, I wake in bed with Petra and Monk, a flower pressed between two pages.
With my back to Petra’s front, her hand cupping my breast as she sleeps, I’m facing Monk, my leg hooked over his hip and our heads sharing a pillow. Mere breaths separate us. I carefully lean back to consider this man in my bed.
Or rather in Petra’s bed.
The light from the lamp on the nightstand is much weaker than the stage’s spotlight, so that should make him less compelling, but no. He’s still bright and gleaming like a burnished penny, the deep umber of his skin lightly sheened with sweat from the sex we had and maybe how warm the room has become while we slept. If I get out of bed to turn down the thermostat, I’ll wake one or both of them, and then he might leave. The night would end, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. So I stare at the long lashes, strangely vulnerable against the hard slope of his cheekbones. He is handsome, there’s no denying, but he is more than that.
The way he talked about music is how I feel about writing. Like it’s less a choice I made than what I was made for. I recognized that passion. Petra set this up for fun because she likes to play games; to knock over a domino and see where people fall, but this encounter disturbed the delicate arrangement of my molecules. Something that was even and placid is now a wave that rolls through me every time I look at him. Yes, Petra and I have been with other people in the time we’ve dated, but it’s never meant much. This, what happened with Monk tonight—as brief as it was—meant something to me.