Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Facing him again, I drop my hair. It falls around my shoulders and frames my face.
Bolstered by my newfound courage, I look up at him through my lashes. “Well, there’s one way to find out.”
His smirk says it all.
Game on.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Audrey
“Come to me.” He crooks a finger, leaning back in the chair, looking far too casual for what’s about to happen.
I take a timid step, but then I pause and square my shoulders. His gaze softens, lips tilting up at the corner in pride. With a lick of my lips—his attention following the motion—I move between his knees, placing my palm into his outstretched hand.
“Sit,” he commands, guiding me until I’m straddling him. His cock is rock hard and standing at attention between us. He smirks as I realize the size of the dick that I’m about to take. “Don’t worry. You can handle it.”
My fingers comb through his hair, tilting his head back so I can see into his eyes. It should make me self-conscious, and yet, it’s anything but that. He looks at me like I’m a prize, and that obliterates my defenses.
“I should’ve grabbed a condom before you sat on me,” he says, grinning. “Because I’m about two seconds away from pushing that lace aside and shoving my cock inside your pretty little cunt.”
Oh. My. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out but a shocked whoosh of air.
My pussy pulses so intently that I can feel my heartbeat between my legs.
Waiting for him to get a condom seems like cruel torture, and I’ve never felt anyone without one.
This is the first of so many things. Why not go all the way?
“Can I ask you something?” I ask, as he runs his fingers beneath my bra straps.
“Of course.”
I bite my lip in disbelief that I’m about to say this. Before I can get a word out, he unfastens my bra in one deft movement, and the cups fall forward between us. Exposing my bare chest to him.
“You were saying?” he asks, looking up at me as he lowers his face to my chest.
“I—ah.”
My eyes roll back in my head as his mouth covers one of my breasts. I rock against him without thinking, gyrating in his lap. He flicks my nipple with his tongue before biting it gently, and I think I’m going to die.
“What did you want to ask me?” he asks before moving to my other side. He flicks, nips, and sucks my breast, and I’m putty in his hands.
“I don’t know,” I say, arching my back, urging him to continue his assault. “I don’t even remember my name.”
He leans back, his fingers taking the place of his lips, and plays with my hard buds. “You are Dr. Audrey Van, a reformed good girl who is about to be very, very, bad.”
Oh, right. I remember. “I’m on birth control,” I say, brushing his hair off his forehead. “And I haven’t had sex in a year, and all of my tests are up to date with no issues.”
“Are you saying you don’t have any STIs?”
I nod. “Exactly.”
His hands roam down my chest, over my torso, and to my hips. A playful smirk touches his lips. “Are you wanting to ask me something, Dr. Van?”
I fight the blush creeping up my neck, but you can’t really control things like that. He notices because he gives me a raised brow as if to say don’t be embarrassed.
“If you’re wondering, and you have every right to ask,” he says, “I have blood work constantly. And I don’t have any STIs either.”
“Great. But that’s, you know, only partly where I was going …”
“Ask me.”
“You already know, I think,” I say, touching his lips with my fingertip.
“I do. But you’re going to ask me.”
I drop my hand. “Brooks …”
“You’re going to ask me for exactly what you want. In explicit detail.” He urges my hips to move as he flexes against me. “Own your pleasure. It’s nothing to be bashful about.” He takes a breath. “Ask. Me. For. What. You. Want. After all, that’s what this is about, isn’t it? You being bold?”
My breath is shaky as I pull it in, trying to look away from him. But he holds my face in his hands and forces me to look him in the eye.
“I don’t want you to use a condom,” I say, swallowing past a lump in my throat.
His eyes pierce mine, burning so hot that I nearly combust. “Say the rest.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Tell me you want fucked without a condom.”
I squirm, but he doesn’t let me get away.
My skin feels too small for my body. Every touch is too electric, every scent too strong. I’m overstimulated and undersexed, and the protests in my head are far too loud.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice rising.
“I want you to fuck me without a condom—ah!”