Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I breathed, suddenly coming up against the intersection of stop and don’t-ever-fucking-stop. But I couldn’t stop. At least… at least, I didn’t want to stop. I met his eyes. “I want you so fucking much.”
There. I’d said it.
The desire in his eyes was unmistakable. Time slowed again as the fire cracked and popped in the background.
“Then take me,” he said so softly, I wasn’t sure it was real. I stared into his eyes for another few seconds before lowering my face slowly. I wanted him to have plenty of time to resist, to move out from under me or slap me or… give me any indication he didn’t want this.
But his brown eyes only turned more melty, and the tip of his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whispered. “Tell me to stop.”
His hands came up to slide along the sides of my neck and pull me closer. “Impossible.”
When my lips landed on his, I felt like I could breathe again. He tasted like sweet strawberry candy, and I would never be able to get enough of it.
I groaned against his mouth and tightened my arm around his slender body. He felt incredible in my arms, underneath me, against all the parts of my body that had dreamed about pressing into him like this.
The kiss started out light and teasing, a few hesitant brushes of lips and swipes of the tongue before Mikey suddenly lurched up to deepen it. His fingers tightened on the back of my neck, and his hips arched up into me. As soon as I felt his hard cock press into my stomach, all bets were off. His need was like a powder keg blasting my self-control to ash.
I ground down against his leg while licking into his mouth hungrily. The little whimper sound that came out of his throat only threw more fuel on the fire.
“Fuck.” I groaned and then hauled in a breath. “Fuck, I want you so fucking badly.”
I shifted until I had a knee pressed between his legs. The hand I had wrapped around his back had moved down into the back of his pajama pants, and I cursed the sling that kept my other arm immobile between us.
The soft skin of his bare ass beneath my fingers made my dick even harder. I squeezed and grunted into his mouth like a damned animal. The soft sounds of his panting and the leg he brought up to wrap around the back of my thighs reassured me he was on board with everything that was happening.
My mind spun with the reality that I was finally, finally kissing and touching Michael Vining. I tried not to think about what this meant—whether or not it was a one-off thing—but I couldn’t help but think about how it was already the single hottest hookup I’d ever had, and we weren’t even naked yet.
Mikey’s hands moved under my shirt and around to my stomach. I felt the muscles contract in response, and my dick jerked in desperation. Please touch me.
He muttered something against my mouth that sounded like big fucking dick, but since my brain cells had left the building, it was purely a guess.
And then his cool fingers were on the hot skin under my pajama pants. I sucked in a breath as they inched closer to my straining cock.
“Please,” I croaked. This time it was out loud because I needed it so badly. If he didn’t touch me soon, I was going to cry like a baby.
I tried to distract myself by sneaking a finger down the cleft of his ass cheeks. As soon as I brushed the edge of his hole with a fingertip, his hand wrapped around my dick and I cried out his name.
His voice was shaky and breathless as he thrust his hard cock into my side. “Gonna come if you touch me like that again.”
“Come. Want you to come,” I murmured between kisses to the tender skin behind his ear. I licked and bit at his earlobe as I tried not to thrust too hard into his grip.
“Your arm,” he said hesitantly.
“Fuck my arm,” I growled. “Hate my arm.”
He managed a chuckle between gasping breaths. I yanked my hand out of his pants long enough to suck my middle finger into my mouth to get it nice and wet. When I slid it back down between his cheeks, his strokes on my dick became irregular. He was on the edge, just like he’d said.
I slid the tip of my finger inside him and listened to the garbled sound of need escape his throat.
“That’s it,” I urged. “Give it to me. Come in your pants like you’re about to make me do.”
It was dirty and raw—both of us humping and begging and gasping—but I didn’t have a single desire for it to be any different. It felt real and perfect and somehow inevitable.