Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Her dress was low cut in the front and showed the slight swell of her tits, and when she took a bite, a piece of the shell broke off with the cream and landed right on the exposed skin of her left tit.
She naturally stuck out her chest to look down at it before she brushed her hair behind her shoulder. With the cannoli in one hand, she used her other to wipe up the cream and suck it off her fingers. Then she ate the piece of shell that had broken off.
I was so fucking hard that I couldn’t stand. Not when people would see my fat dick and I’d get a serious head rush from the loss of blood.
She must have felt the heat of my stare, because her eyes met mine as she sucked more cream off her finger. A sudden surge of confidence filled her, and she held my gaze as she took another bite of her cannoli, getting cream all over her mouth and swiping it away with her tongue.
Lord have mercy . . .
I’d watched women eat cannoli before, but it had never turned into a sex show like this.
She really should consider doing OnlyFans.
She returned the second half of the cannoli back to the paper basket it had come in. “You weren’t kidding.”
I was so uncomfortable I just wanted to adjust my jeans, but there was no way I could do it without making it obvious that my dick wanted to break my zipper. Aurelia already knew, based on the way she eye fucked me, but other people were around, including Hector, my old classmate, who stood in the window. And he didn’t need to know how much this woman turned me on.
She cleaned her fingers with the napkin before she went inside and dumped her trash in the bin. But then she went to the counter and ordered another, clearly asking for it to go, based on the container they gave to her.
My pants were about to break.
She came back to the table and sauntered toward me, her hand moving to my shoulder and grazing over the muscles of my arm and chest. Her perfume hit me, as well as the scent of sunscreen. Her ass was right next to my shoulder. “Can I eat this in your room?” She slid her fingers up my neck, and her thumb brushed my bottom lip as she teased me.
I fucking loved to be teased. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
The blackout curtains were closed when we entered my suite, but some streaks of sunlight poked through. Clothes were dropped, shoes kicked away, and I looked at her in her little pink thong and nearly growled.
Her lithe core showed the muscles of her abs, her tits were full and perky, big for her slender frame, and her legs . . . her legs drove me fucking mad. I slid my hand into the playground of her hair, and I fisted it as I kissed her, my other arm tugging her into me as I bent my neck to feel her lips. The second I had her, a heat flushed through me and lit every nerve on fire. I was aware of my own heartbeat, aware of the way it pounded in my chest like it might break my ribs. Sex was arousing, but generally soothing and calming. However, with her, it gave me the same rush of adrenaline as when I put someone in the grave.
I was about to throw her on the bed, but she beat me to it.
She guided me back, then shoved me.
Fuck me.
I was propped up slightly on the pillows at the headboard, my dick hard against my stomach, and I watched her take the cannoli from the package and saunter toward the bed.
Oh sweet mother of God.
She positioned herself between my thighs, lying on her stomach, and slowly dragged her finger through the cream on one side of the opening, then popped it into her mouth to taste it.
My dick twitched harder than a baseball bat about to hit a home run.
Then she cracked the shell, crumbs sprinkling into my lap, the ricotta filling coming free. Using her fingers as a spoon, she scooped it, then spread it up my length, getting the creamy mixture against my skin too. It was cold to the touch but ignited me like a match to gasoline.
She slowly worked to coat my entire dick with the dessert, her eyes seductive and confident, the version of her that only emerged under the right conditions. When she had enough drinks to take the edge off, when she stopped thinking about who she was and just lived in the moment. When she didn’t have the chance to second-guess herself. When she didn’t have to question whether she belonged . . . or she should give her spot to someone else.