Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
But it’s not gentle. He pushes inside me steadily, and my whole body floods with an unexpected rush of sensation.
He’s inside me.
“I’m…” I say in a low whisper, but I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
“You good, Knox?”
“Yes. Good.”
“Good. Breathe for me.”
My cock throbs at the way he says it, hanging there in the space above the mattress. I feel him pushing another finger inside me and I groan at the tight fit, but he doesn’t stop, giving it to me inch by inch.
His other hand moves up to my hip, holding me steady there.
“Did you lock the door?” I utter.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Tell me you fucking locked it.”
“So afraid,” he murmurs before pushing his fingers in deeper, making me gasp. He drags his fingertips along my prostate and my cock jumps again. Christ. Nothing in the world has the right to feel that good.
“Sevan,” I say in a broken whisper and he squeezes tight on my hip.
“Wait ‘til my cock is inside you if you’re going to say my name like that. I like it too much.”
I swallow hard.
He’s enjoying this just as much as I am.
Guess I’m at least a little better than a thoughtless fuck at a party.
“Just fuck me.”
He hums. “I did lock the door, by the way, but I’m wondering if I should go open it wide, instead. Let them hear you calling out my name.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
He lets out a satisfied groan. “Wish you would.”
“Then quit going easy on me. Asked you to fuck me, not treat me like I’m fragile.”
He pauses. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I try to say confidently, and it ends up sounding like a broken whisper.
He pulls his fingers out a little then slowly pushes them back in again.
“Then maybe I want to tease you, instead. Would you beg for me, Weston?”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
He pushes deeper. A moan escapes my mouth before I can force myself quiet, and I feel my face heating up. I’m giving away how much this is actually affecting me, and both of us know it.
Damn it.
“Pretty sure I could make you.”
His free hand comes around to give my cock a firm, tight squeeze, and the feeling in combination with him being literally inside me is nearly too much.
I feel a wave of sensation forming in me, so much at once, and something comes loose inside me.
I can’t come yet.
I need more of this.
Need you to give me your cock so that I’ll be the only guy you’ve ever fucked, and you have to live with that memory of me, forever, etched in your mind.
“God,” I utter, moving a hand to push his fist off of my dick before I lose control and accidentally come in his hand.
“You want to come for me that badly.”
“It’s not that serious,” I toss back at him, my voice coming out with more bite than I expected.
“Okay, Sheriff. It’s not that serious.”
I can hear the disbelief in every word of mine that he repeats.
Suddenly he shifts behind me. And then his fingers are sliding out, and I push my hips back a little involuntarily. I’d gotten used to the feeling of being filled up and now I miss it.
I don’t dare turn around.
I stare down at the rumpled comforter beneath me, watching the dancing shadows cast by the tree branches outside in the moonlight. I can hear him moving behind me, ripping open the condom packet over the sound of the bass from downstairs.
And I’m bracing myself.
Doing everything I probably shouldn’t be doing, tensing up and tightening and anticipating him shoving inside me.
I glance up at the wall and see the things I have hanging on my wall: a framed illustration of a retro pin-up girl, mocking me. More framed pictures of me and Rayne at parties in freshman year, probably drunk off of two beers on nights where I was constantly trying to find satisfaction and never getting it.
“Not touching you again ‘til you breathe.” Sev’s voice is low.
I pull in a long breath and wait for his cock to push inside me.
But instead, his free hand moves up and he pulls me upward, hitching my body up higher off the bed. I’m no longer folded over at a ninety-degree angle, but instead being pulled backward, and for a second I’m confused.
But then his palm lands on my throat.
He cups me there, pushing firmly, hovering right along the edge of choking me.
He was moving me so I’d be in a position where he could grip my throat.
“Swallow. Then breathe.”
His hand is there on my neck and my Adam’s apple moves under his touch as I swallow.
And then breathe deeply again.
“There you go.”
I want to scream at him. Let out a string of curses and turn around and deck him in the face. Ask him how he has the fucking nerve to treat me like I’m his plaything to command.