Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
A shudder ripped through me. How he could seduce me so thoroughly, I’d never fucking get. It was one thing to get me going physically, but to kidnap my mind? Whole other game.
I couldn’t look away from him.
He didn’t look away from me either.
The pressure built up inside me, only increasing when he started stroking my cock. I moaned and clenched down around him, spurring him on. Not the pace, just the force. He fucked me harder, not faster. The rest of the world didn’t exist. All I saw was this man and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life getting fucked like this by him.
I clung to him. Fuck breathing. I couldn’t stop kissing him. My fingers dug into his flesh—and my heels into his ass cheeks. It was as if I couldn’t get close enough.
It had to be us.
A heavy breath gusted out of me, and I started panting. And at fucking last, he sped up. He pounded into me and buried his face against my neck. I could tell he was almost there—and that he couldn’t multitask any longer, so I took over. I batted away his hand and stroked myself faster, to which he slipped a hand up my body and grabbed me in a light choke hold.
Fuck me.
He groaned against my neck. “You gotta come, baby.”
“Almost,” I gasped. Oh fuck, almost, almost, almost. Just like that—he hit the right angle, and I almost lost it. “Fill me.”
He cursed and redoubled his efforts, and all I heard was our heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin.
I was done for.
“Now…” I whimpered and screwed my eyes shut, and the pleasure took over. It crashed down on me in heavy waves and stabbed at—actually, the stabbing part was his cock. He slammed into me until he lost the fight too, and then he was coming deep inside me.
Ropes of come splashed against my stomach and chest, and I stroked myself through the climax.
We met in a messy kiss of tongues and teeth and moans until, one heartbeat after another, we lost steam. Lips touching, breaths mingling. I swallowed dryly and felt sore all fucking over. And happy. So goddamn happy. He couldn’t deny what we had going anymore. He fucking couldn’t. We were perfect together.
I kissed him slowly, coaxing his tongue out with my own.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose. “I wish I could stay here all day.”
“Me too.”
Hopefully another time. Soon.
We didn’t have any leftovers I could heat up for him, so I prepared two sandwiches for his lunch box, and I emptied the coffeepot into his travel mug.
By the time Ben emerged in the doorway, tucking his tee into his utility pants, I’d inhaled a waffle and made one for him too, since we hadn’t finished the ones from before.
“I hope two turkey sandwiches will work,” I said. “We should buy groceries tomorrow.”
“I can go by Aldi’s tomorrow after work.” He came over and hugged me from behind, and he buried his face against my neck. “Fuck, you smell like us.”
He smelled like our body wash.
I shivered and tilted my head back, and he took the hint and kissed me.
Wasn’t this much better? Kissing and fucking and touching instead of…pretending we were just friends?
“I’m losing my mind over you, Trace.” He tightened his hold on me, and I let the relief and joy roll over me. “You didn’t have to make me lunch.”
“I wanted to.” I turned around in his embrace and locked my arms around his neck. “I want you to keep losing your mind over me too, so we can quit acting like this is casual.”
He took a deep breath and rested his forehead to mine, and he closed his eyes.
I felt the need to continue before he could let his fears do the talking.
I scratched the back of his head lightly. “Every time you share a glimpse of your creativity—what you could do with this place—you add stuff like, if that’s your thing, or, if you’d like… Or like the other day, when I was bitching about the coffee table being too far away. You said you could build me one of those tables you roll over the bed. Build me one of those tables.” I kissed his nose. “The problem is, all these ideas—I mean, I get it. I know you’re worried and just wanna make sure you’re useful. Which is something we should talk about later, ’cause it’s dumb.”
He exhaled a laugh through his nose.
“But I don’t want that table for me, Ben,” I continued. “I don’t care about the stupid built-in shelves or the fire escape green bean plants—if they’re just for me. I want them for us, ’cause…you make this place feel more like a home. But it means you gotta share it with me.”