Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Oh God. I can barely breathe. I’m about to blow. I’m so close. I work myself even more furiously. My cock feels like a rocket about to lift off. Oh fuck. Yes. It’s beginning to ripple.
And her lips. They’re perfect, just like everything else about her. I imagine those lips wrapped around my hard cock, sliding up and down, devouring me. I run my finger over my wet tip, imagining it’s her swirling tongue.
“Oh shit,” I say out loud. I open my mouth wide and a blast of hot water floods it. My knees are buckling. I’m twitching. I’d pay a million dollars if my hand could be her warm mouth right now—two million if it could be her tight little pussy. The Club is full of hookers, it turns out? Fine by me. Some women are well worth the money. If Kat asked me to pay her to fuck her, I surely would. No questions asked. I’d give anything, anything, to see Kat looking up at me with those big blue eyes, her lips wrapped around my cock. I imagine her eyes glittering the same way they did when she found out I’d been a member of The Club. That’s the look that told me the girl is up for anything—with the right guy, anyway.
I’m the right guy for you, baby. Fuck yeah, I am. You’ve never been fucked like this before. That’s right, baby.
I fondle my balls with my free hand while my pumping hand continues working my shaft. Oh shit. My knees are buckling. This is so good. Any second now.
I picture her on top of me, riding me, her blonde hair falling down over her shoulders and cascading over her perky little tits. Erect nipples. Cleft in her chin. Blue eyes. Tight little body. Oh my God. She throws her head back. She’s having an orgasm. She’s screaming my name.
My skin prickles for just an instant, like I’ve got a chill even under the steaming hot water, and then an epic orgasm slams into me, making me spurt a massive load all over my hands. I shudder with my release and lean my head against the marble shower wall.
“Kat,” I say out loud, like she’s lying next to me in bed. “Oh my God.”
That’s the first time in a really long time I’ve stuck with the fantasy of one woman while jacking off. I usually start out thinking about whatever woman I’ve been seeing lately, whatever sex act we might have recently performed, and then, at some point, move on to that raven-haired dental assistant I always fantasize about, even though she’s married and never gives me the slightest whiff of a come-on, or the college professor I used to fuck during office hours during my second year at UCLA, or, occasionally, the platinum-blonde Swiss foreign exchange student in high school who de-virginized me when I was a wee little freshman, the one who taught me exactly where to touch her and how to get her off. And then, right at climax, without fail, whether I like it or not, my brain inevitably slams me with Emma’s angelic face, the face that fooled me for so long into thinking she was The One.
Hot water is gushing down my back.
“Kat,” I say again, reliving the vision of her riding me, her face awash in ecstasy.
She’s the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.
Holy shit.
I want this girl.
I want her bad.
And I’m stuck here with my goddamned brother.
Seven
Josh
When I enter the family room after my shower, Jonas is nowhere to be found, which is good because, after his little tantrum in the car, I still feel like punching him in his pretty face. I grab a beer from the fridge, plop myself down on Jonas’ pristine white couch, and turn on the basketball game.
Shit. I should be with the Party Girl with a Hyphen right now, pouring on the charm, making her realize this story’s ending is inevitable—not babysitting my high-maintenance brother. But I can’t leave him right now, especially to go chase a girl (even if that girl happens to be a particularly gorgeous one). He’s just too wound up. I’d never forgive myself if he lost his shit completely and did something stupid.
I take a giant swig of my beer. Seriously, though. I don’t blame Jonas for freaking out about Sarah, despite what I said to him before. What the fuck’s going on with her? Is she fucking with him? I mean, in theory I understand why Sarah opted to stay with her mom instead of recuperating at her temperamental boyfriend’s house. Jonas isn’t exactly anyone’s first choice as a relaxation buddy. But why has Sarah been so fucking non-communicative with the poor guy while she’s resting up? Is she doing what I always do—keeping the other person guessing? If so, why? He’s obviously waiting with bated breath to hear from her—she must know that. And yet she’s not calling him back? She’s just been engaging in superficial text conversations with the poor guy, tearing a page right out of my book. I hate to admit it, but things don’t look good for my brother’s chance at a happy ending here.