Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Ry’s lips briefly make a round shape on a hungry whimper.
“Is that a yes?” My finger lightly roams down the front of his chest. “Or a no?”
“That’s a I’m probably gonna be fucking late to work…” He leans forward and tangles a hand into my thick locks. “And it’s gonna be so fucking worth it.”
Our mouths fuse in the same fashion they did for most of the night. As though afraid the other might vanish from existence if we separate, we fumble together in kiss filled hold from the middle of my king-sized bed into my en-suite bathroom.
Getting into the shower and the water flowing is easy.
Convincing our hands to do cleaning instead of caressing isn’t.
And keeping Ry pinned against the dark tile wall while one soapy hand strokes his cock is by the far the most difficult.
“Stay there,” I command, curled grip tightening.
“But-”
“Just enjoy this…” My encouragement is followed by a licentious smirk. “Me.”
He groans, tucks his bottom lip behind his top teeth, and rocks his hips into the gradual jerking, eyes watching the way the warm water cascades down my tits. Feeling his cock swell while staring simply spurs me to move my hand faster. Show him how much I appreciate being adored.
Admired.
Wanted.
My pumping stays steady, working his shaft from his tip that keeps leaking pre-cum all the way down to his balls that are lifted up in anticipation of my slick grasp. Rolling them around is done in tandem with my other fingers scraping his chest. I lightly scrape at the skin at the same time I lightly tug at his sac and the sensuously savage combination has his entire body damn near buckling to its knees.
“Fuck, Pres,” is breathlessly barked in such a way I can’t resist the urge to move my hand faster.
Squeeze a little tighter and more ferociously.
Stroke like it’s my turn to stake claim and scrub away all other females who dared try to take my place.
Suddenly dazed with a bit of delirium, I lift my hand up and latch it onto the back of his neck, tugging him over and over and over again into my caresses, holding his hooded stare hostage with mine.
His large frame folds forward.
Shakes.
Submits to every unrestrained brush and bump of my hand.
Ry’s dick bulges against my slick palm, wordlessly begging me to keep going while concurrently telling me how close he is. Digging my fingers in deeper is done on an airy demand, “You come for me.”
His jaw tumbles down to speak.
“And only me, Ryder Collins.”
Whatever word or phrase was going to be uttered is obliterated, and in its place is scorching-hot streams of cum.
They sear my fingertips.
Drip down my thighs.
Land on my need to be polished toes during their pursuit to rush down the drain.
He huffs and puffs and dives inward to taste my mouth that’s being denied in order to watch him come undone for me in ways I desperately needed to see.
After so many years of being with someone in a routine basis, it’s easy to forget that maybe you are sexy.
That maybe you are irresistible.
And I get that shit to a degree is very self-decided, but being able to physically see it like this is so fucking uplifting.
Right now, I feel like the sexiest, most powerful woman on the goddamn planet, and I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.
Ry carnally cups both of my ass cheeks and hauls me upward in order to guarantee he gets my lips. Tangling my fingers into his wet hair and legs around his waist are both mindlessly done.
Yet these mindless actions are welcomed.
They don’t feel like pre-programmed robotic habits.
Sure, they feel pre-programmed but it’s by instinct.
Like every part of me was pre-destined to be with every part of him.
Our shower ends shortly after his orgasm due to my insistence.
Explaining that it’s not that I don’t wanna get off so much as don’t want him that late for work while helping wash his hair adds a level of tenderness I think is appreciated. He returns the scrubbing favor by playfully snatching the loofah out of my grasp and gently cleaning me regardless of my good-hearted objections regarding his time.
The process of drying off is followed quickly by him brushing his teeth – thank you Xander for training me to always keep a spare toothbrush under the sink – and getting into yesterday’s somewhat still damp clothing I kicked into the bedroom when I went to grab the pizza.
I thoughtlessly cringe at his uncomfortable face from the doorway of the bathroom where I’m tying the belt to my robe. “That bad?”
“Eh, I’ll blast the heater on my way.” He lightly laughs. “It’ll be like a tumble dry every time I hit a pothole.”
Catching my giggle with one hand is instant.
“Never hide that sound from me, baby,” Ry sweetly scolds, pulling the collared shirt back on. “There’s nothing else in the world like it.”