Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
"Good night, honey."
"Good night, Dad."
The footsteps retreat. The moment they're gone, Heath's smirk returns, wicked and full of dark promise. He starts moving again, faster now, still careful but with more purpose.
His hips snap forward in short, powerful thrusts that hit exactly where I need him. The angle has his pelvis grinding against my clit on every stroke, and the pressure builds fast and sharp.
He kisses me hard, tongue stroking deep, muffling the sounds I can't hold back anymore. One hand snakes between our bodies, fingers finding my clit and teasing it in tight, perfect circles.
My thighs start to shake around his waist as a tsunami of pleasure hits, rolling through my body in a powerful wave.
"God, Heath. Oh God."
"Give it to me, baby. Come."
He kisses me again, and I moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his tongue as my pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock. Waves of warmth rip through every muscle, leaving me trembling and gasping.
I'm still reeling by how intense my orgasm is when Heath's thrusts become wild and coordinated and he slams into me one last time. He moans into my mouth as he comes, hot pulses of come flooding deep inside me.
His hips jerk with each spurt, drawing out the aftershocks for both of us until we're both spent and panting.
We stare at each other in the dim light filtering through the lake-facing window. His forehead drops to mine, sweat-slick skin sticking together. He kisses me there, soft and lingering, right at my hairline.
"Well," he whispers, voice rough, "we really are having a good night."
4
HEATH
My eyes snap open to the dark slant of the loft ceiling and the wet heat wrapped tight around my cock. Holy shit. Harriet's mouth works me slowly, her tongue sliding along the underside while her lips seal around the head.
The clock on the dresser glows 1:03. The whole house sleeps below us. My heart slams against my ribs like it wants out, each frantic beat echoing the roar of blood in my ears.
Her hair brushes my thigh every time she dips down, those soft waves tickling across heated skin and sending sparks racing over my nerves. She takes me deeper, cheeks hollowing with obscene suction, and the sight punches the air from my lungs.
Ten years of wondering what she'd look like like this—on her knees, lips stretched around me, saliva glistening on her chin—and reality hits harder than any blindside hit I've taken on the field.
Fuck, she's perfect. The faint, sweet scent of her skin mixes with the clean cotton of the sheets and the unmistakable musk of arousal thickening the air between us.
"Harriet." My voice sounds gravelly with want.
Harriet doesn't stop. Her hand twists at the base in a rhythm that matches her mouth, slick, filthy sounds filling the small space between our beds and bouncing off the ceiling.
The single bathroom door stands half-open across the room. Everything else in this pressure-cooker attic stays quiet except us—the faint creak of the old floorboards under my shifting weight, the wet glide of her tongue, my own ragged breathing that I can't seem to control.
My fingers find her hair, threading through the silky strands, feeling the way she moves, the subtle bob of her head, the heat of her scalp against my palm.
She hums around me, a low, pleased vibration that shoots straight up my spine and explodes behind my eyes. My hips jerk once before I lock them down hard, muscles burning with the effort.
Can't wake the house. Can't stop this either.
God, I don't want to stop. If this is how I go, buried in her mouth while the lake laps at the shore outside, I'll die happy.
Her eyes lift to mine in the thin moonlight slicing through the window, pupils blown wide, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks. That look—half challenge, half raw hunger—twists something deep in my chest and makes my cock throb against her tongue.
My pulse thuds in my ears, a deafening drum that drowns out everything but the wet heat of her, the soft press of her breasts against my thigh, the way her nipples have tightened into needy little peaks I can just make out in the dim light.
"Ride my cock, baby. Please."
The words fall out before I can cage them. Need claws at me, raw and immediate, scraping every rational thought to shreds until only her remains.
Harriet pulls off with a wet pop that shouldn't sound so filthy but does, a thin string of saliva connecting her swollen lower lip to the flushed head of my cock for one torturous second before it breaks.
She sits back on her heels between my spread thighs, lips shiny and parted, and smirks. Harriet looks flushed, her small breasts rising and falling with each quick breath, nipples begging for my mouth.
Harriet hooks her fingers under the hem of her nightgown. Cotton whispers as it slides up and over her head, the fabric dragging over her skin with a soft rasp.