Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I can’t take much more. I make a fist around my rigid shaft and position it at her entrance. Her eyes flutter open as I slowly rub my swollen head up and down her silky cleft, taking my time to tease her, to tease myself.
Keep it together Crawford, I tell myself. Go slow.
It’s the hardest thing. Every nerve in my body is ready to slam into her sweet depths and fuck her until we’re off the bed. It takes all my strength to slowly ease my way inside her. She’s so hot and wet as I slowly push my way in that I begin to shake. I pause and take in a deep, wavering breath before I continue.
Her face contorts as I push. She’s so fucking tight, like a vise. Both of us are breathing hard, sweat building on my brow, our skin damp. When I’m in deep, I slowly pull out again, watching my cock as it withdraws, glistening with her juices.
Heaven. Simply put.
She lies beneath me, her legs hooked around the back of mine, looking too gorgeous for words. Seeing her on the verge of ecstasy like this is part of the problem. I can’t take my eyes away and the more I watch her, the more I want to explode.
I slowly pull out and then reach down and hook my arm under her.
“Up,” I whisper roughly as I flip her over so she’s on her stomach. “Hips up, peach.”
She moves back slightly so that her hips and stomach raise off the bed, and she grabs the edge of the blanket, curling her fingers around it.
The sight of her like this gets me even harder, that perfect arse that I’ve lusted over all year now bare and round in front of me. I can see a small freckle on the left cheek and I dip my head down to nip it.
“Ow,” she cries out softly.
“Sorry,” I say. “Couldn’t help myself there.”
I reach down, arcing over her stomach, and place my finger on her clit and rub it around, her juices spreading. I work at her until I feel her widen, her legs spreading more, and then I push in again from this angle. Here she’s even tighter. I can plunge deeper and I know I’m hitting all her sweet spots. She gasps and I grab her arse, holding on tight, my fingertips sinking into her soft skin.
She’s so wet and lush, I could lose myself in her forever.
But I don’t have forever.
My pace becomes quicker as my balls rise, tighten, threatening to let loose inside of her. They smack against her skin, the slapping noise filling the room as I pound her in and out, in and out, quick and relentless, bringing me to the edge.
I groan loudly, unable to keep quiet. The need in me to come is too sharp, too hard, too much. I slide out slowly and watch my thick shaft, shiny with everything she has, then I plunge back in. My whole body shudders.
“Come for me,” I growl at her, knowing I wrote a line like that earlier, but I don’t fucking care. I want her to come with me, again and again.
I work my fingers into a frenzy, her face sinking into the blanket and her muffled moans get louder and louder while I slam into her harder and harder.
“Oh my god!” she cries out, followed by a string of nonsense that sounds like poetry right now.
The bed is shaking.
She’s shaking.
I’m shaking.
Then I’m coming.
Hard.
I take in a deep breath and let out a low, guttural cry as my coiled muscles let loose and the orgasm rips down my spine, shooting out through every vein. I see the fucking stars. The moon. The light that lives in the back of your head.
Then there’s nothing of me left.
I’m empty. Sated.
Boneless.
I lean against her, trying to feel my limbs, my grip on her hips slick with sweat.
She’s collapsed into the bed, not moving but breathing hard, her back rising with each breath.
Carefully, I pull out and then through my haze, I tie the condom and toss it into the trash. I lie down on the bed next to her and pull her to me, rolling her over so we’re face to face.
“Hey,” I say to her, still breathless, propping my head up with my elbow.
She swallows, her face flush and damp, her pupils dark like stones. “Hi.”
“So how was round number two?” I ask lazily.
Her lips curve. “Better than round one.”
“How so?”
“No librarian running after us?”
“Really? I thought that made things special.”
“There are different kinds of special,” she says.
I bite my lip and then reach over, playfully dragging the tip of my finger over her nose. “You hungry?”
“For what?” she asks warily.
I roll over and get up, not caring that I’m hanging out in front of her partially erect. “Food,” I tell her. “That’s happening again by the way” —I gesture to the bed— “but I need my strength.”