Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Believe me, it was.” Trace walks out of the bathroom, hair damp. A few rivulets of water slowly cascade down his bare chest, white towel wrapped around his hip, flexed arm muscle absentmindedly running through his hair. My focus isn’t on his words; it’s on his body. One lone droplet has my full attention. A sense of déjà vu hits me square in the gut, back to a time when this all began, Trace in all his glory looking much the same as he does now, still well built. The man hasn’t changed a bit, his dark hair not showing so much as a speck of gray. Meanwhile, I found my first strand the other day. Must be nice.
“Babe, you listening to me?” I lick my suddenly parched lips, wanting to drink from his skin as I taste him.
“Hmmm.” My eyes move to his, then back to his chest, slowly sliding down the length of his body, following the outline of his erection while I remember his flavor exploding on my tongue earlier this morning.
“Clearly, you’re not. I said lose the nightie, get on the bed.” I perk up at his demand and abandon putting lotion on my legs. My fingers drop to the hem and scrunch the fabric, taking my time as he looks at me with pure reverence. Trace’s deft fingers grip the towel, untying it around his trim waist. I lick my lips and clear my throat, attempting to push the words out. The man in front of me is doing nothing to help either. Trace’s cock stands up, lying against his lower abdomen, and nothing he said is helping my lust-induced fog. I’m completely enraptured by his nakedness. Clothes should never be an option where he’s concerned. Warm tan skin, a smattering of chest hair leading down the middle of his stomach, leading to his long and girthy length, so thick the tips of my fingers have a hard time touching when my hand is wrapped around his dick.
“Huh?” One word is all I can muster. Of course, Trace is getting a kick out of provoking me, using this time where my full attention is on him, hand going to his cock, and I watch as his work roughened hands surround his length.
“Clothes off. Now, Josie.” My mind catches up with my hands, and I’m realizing I’m gripping the fabric of my pajamas in my fingers, holding it in place just before my bare center is revealed. I lose the sight of Trace jacking his cock. A groan bubbles in the back of my throat, wanting so much more and not wanting to wait. “Babe, you’re fucking killin’ me.” At least I’m not the only one. He’s doing the exact same thing to me. The splashes of different-colored floral spaghetti-strapped nightgown with a built-in shelf bra clears my head. He stalks toward me, like an animal going after his next meal, only I’m Trace’s willing prey and don’t mind one single bit, especially when he’s devouring me every way he can.
“Trace.” My hands reach out for his shoulders. His own abandon his dick and move to my lower back, pulling me in, making me walk backwards until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. He guides me downwards, then drops to his knees in one fell swoop. I watch as he closes his eyes, breathing me in as he comes eye level with my pussy, and when he lets the air out of his lungs, a shiver washes over me, feeling it hit me directly on my clit, causing my thighs to clench.
“Fuck, yeah, all night, this is what I’ve been thinking about, tasting you until you come, my cock ready to explode but making us both wait until you’re ready to go again, fucking you into your next orgasm and taking me right along with you.” Trace’s mouth with his words alone could make a porn star blush. As for myself, I’m already on the verge of doing exactly what he says, especially when his tongue drags along the seam of my lips, hands going to the back of my knees. He doesn’t tell me what he wants, rather shows me as he pulls my legs out from underneath me. My back hits the mattress, one hand going to the back of his head, afraid I’ll lose his mouth, as if Trace would let that happen. If anything, he latches on further, hands gripping the back of my thighs as his thumb press deeper into my inner muscles. Pleasure rolls through me as he wraps his mouth around my clit, but he refuses to give me his fingers as well. Nope, Trace likes to torment me in the best of ways, which I love, but not tonight. Tonight, I’ve been on a slow simmering burn. The lingering touches, the heated glances, and not to mention how he worked me up before we left only to stop in order to make it to dinner on time.