Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
With a sex-addled brain, it’s a trick to get the box of condoms open. My breath is stuttering and my hands are shaking. I have seen puzzles less complicated than this shit.
“Let me help you,” says Noah, taking it from me.
I roll onto my back as he tears open the cardboard. In no time at all he’s rolling a condom down the length of his cock. Thank goodness my gaze has adjusted to the low lighting. Because missing this sight would be a shame. Not getting to see him towering over me like a god. To have him kneeling between my spread legs with his hair disheveled and his dick hard. I’d write the man bad poetry if I only had the words. It’s both too much and not enough—the want to crawl beneath his skin and show him my darkest parts.
He shoves his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “I’m going down on you.”
“No. Come here.”
“You have no patience.”
And he’s not wrong. But he does as asked, stretching his big body out over mine. The heat coming off him is wild. To have his smooth skin and muscles and dusting of chest hair within easy reach is sublime. I wrap my legs around him good and tight. There’s no hesitation. No second thoughts.
He takes his weight on one arm and positions the wide blunt head of his cock against me. His mouth takes mine in a fevered kiss as he pushes in slowly. It’s an indescribable sort of ecstasy. The intimacy of being here with him and having him inside me. I moan and he growls and presses his forehead against mine. We’re our own small safe world here on this bed. This is everything.
“Fuck me,” he says, his voice deep and raw and real.
When his hips rest against mine, I press my nails into his shoulders just a little. Just enough to test him. And his feral grin answers all of my questions. He’s every bit as overexcited and hanging on by a thread as me. Oh so slowly he pulls out, torturing us both. It’s like he’s lighting me up from inside. His heavy length pushes back in again, taking me over. My whole body is focused on the friction. Each and every nerve ending in me wide the fuck awake.
The warm palm of his hand cups my breast, molding and learning the shape. His clever fingers toy with the hard nipple. Sweat is already beading on my skin. I want to breathe him in and memorize him to the bone. Tie him to my bed and keep him here forever. It’s not like me to be so jealous. But the emotions he’s stirring are beyond my control.
His hand wanders down my side, taking my ass cheek in a firm grip. All the better to fuck me into the mattress. And I dig my heels in, urging him on. Harder and faster. Tension winds me tighter, the ache becoming louder and more insistent. I raise my hips to meet him again and again. Sensation streaks down my spine and yes. My hands grasp at his shoulders, holding him to me.
When the orgasm hits me, the whole world goes away. It’s like I am floating in darkness, but there’s nothing to fear. My body is wrapped around his. My sex squeezing him tight and keeping him deep. His hips buck against me time and again. Then he buries his face in my neck with a groan when he finishes. He tries to climb off me and I grunt in displeasure and hold on tighter. And he gives in and gives me his weight.
This moment should never end. We should always be on my bed. A tangle of limbs and a sticky sweaty mess.
“I am getting off you,” he mumbles. “Any minute now.”
“That’s an awful idea. Why would you want to do that?”
He raises his head, cracks open one eyelid, and gives me a long look. “We’re not getting much sleep for a while, are we?”
“No,” I say with a smile.
Happiness and me don’t usually have much in common. I am not sure I trust it. Though maybe I’m just not used to it. Which is not to say good dick can cure all evils—but it sure does help. And this is exactly what I am staring into space and thinking when the smoke alarm in the kitchen starts screaming.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
The remains of the butter I put in the frying pan is an ominous black sludge. I turn off the stove and grab a dish towel to try and disperse the smoke. Opening the window would also help. Something I am busy doing when Noah enters the room, pulling his tee on over his head. He assesses the situation in no time, moves the overheated pan to a cooler section of the cooktop, and turns on the range hood.