Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
How loud she is in bed.
I know how loud she was tonight when I made her come with my mouth. How loud will she be when I make her come on my cock?
“Now you’re making the hot and bothered face,” she says quietly. “I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking.”
“Liar.”
She shakes her head, but it’s hardly convincing. The little minx is thinking dirty thoughts, I can see it in her eyes.
“Bet you can use your imagination to guess what I’m thinkin’ ’bout.”
“Bet I can,” she concedes.
Licks her lower lip.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what? Lick my lip? No, my lips are dry.” She does it again. “See?”
How can I be so freaking turned on by a girl who’s not trying to turn me on? What is this life?
“You’re just askin’ for trouble.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
Picture her on her hands and knees, naked from the waist up, while she sucks my dick, and I’m pretty sure my free hand—the one not gripping my phone—is migrating south, down to my cock.
You know. Just to check on it.
Make sure it’s paying attention.
“You know what, you sassy little shit? I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. And my mouth.”
“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” Daisy’s hair is fanned out on my mattress, stark against the white sheets. Glossy the same way her lips are.
She slides a finger beneath her bra strap, dragging it slowly toward the bra cups, eyes never leaving my face. Her tits practically pour out of the tops, areola peeking over the white lacy cups.
White bra. White panties.
Pristine and almost chaste—the way I thought she was when we first met, the prissy girl I thought she’d be soon replaced by this vixen with a sassy mouth.
“What’s taking you so long?” she whines, wriggling her hips.
“I’m lookin’. I just want to look at you.”
The tits.
The hair.
The heat between her legs, only covered by that delicate see-through lace.
I love putting my mouth there; love hearing her cry out. Love feeling how wet she is when I put my tongue there.
Her hand reaches for my rock-hard cock; it presses against the cotton fabric of my boxer briefs, begging to be stroked, held, released.
“You’re dick is so big,” she moans, stroking it up and down with the tips of her fingers. Pressing her palm down, too far to properly touch me. There won’t be any wrapping her hand around it until I’ve gotten closer.
For now, I kneel between her legs, looking my fill.
“Fuck me, Drake,” she whines. “I’ve waited all day.”
“We’ll get to that. I want to taste you first…”
So I do. I nudge her knees farther apart and lean in, kissing her inner thighs.
Taste her.
Suck her.
Lick her until her legs begin to quake with that telling little quiver.
Her tight pussy is always wet for me; always wants my dick. I could fuck her for hours. I would if she’d let me. Love bending her over the bed and taking her from behind, hearing her moans when I pound into her.
My dick is so hard.
My hips rotate, pelvis seeking heat to pump into and finding none. Hands reaching for hips and coming up empty.
“Daisy.”
My hands feel around the mattress, fingers grasping on the cool sheets, searching for body heat.
Where did she go?
I blink.
Staring at the ceiling in my room, I’m confused, dick still straining against my underwear, sweat beading on my forehead.
I let my hand stray the way I had when she and I were on the phone earlier, but this time, I stroke. Inch my hand below the waistband of my boxer briefs so I can give my cock the proper grip.
Fuck that feels good.
It’s not pussy, but it’ll do in a pinch.
I close my eyes again, picturing Daisy’s beautiful face in my mind. The freckles I imagine on her shoulders, across the smooth skin on her breasts.
It’s her hand gripping me. Her hand moving up and down, jerking me fast but gently. Fast then slow. Up and down.
Fuck yeah.
Fuck yeah, that feels good…
Her mouth.
That smile.
“You know what, you sassy little shit? I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. And my mouth.”
Hot and bothered.
That’s one way of putting it.
I wasn’t lying when I told Daisy I jerked off a lot. I’m made of flesh and bone, and when I’m not getting laid, I like to burn off some of that extra adrenaline coursing through my body with an orgasm. This feels different because I would rather not be jerking off at all. I would rather be going down. I’m dizzy instead of making myself feel good, I want her to feel good.
When she praised me for being a giver—something I’m not, not really. I’m generally a selfish bastard who only thinks of himself as sex and pleasure.
But when she told me I was?