Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Ugh.
I hate that the answer is yes.
I hate even more that for the first time in my life the answer is always yes.
Gyrating accessory or not.
It’s like the second Ig gets anywhere near my body with sexual intent, my orgasms start lining up, single file, like they’re getting ready to accept whatever Santa’s going to give them out of his big sack.
And fuck, does Mr. Forty-Two have an amazing one.
His balls are so smooth and so round and fit so easily in my mouth that I admittedly get a little carried away playing with them during BJs, which doesn’t seem to bother Ig.
Actually, tends to make him come faster.
Some dudes really like ball play.
Just like some women really like a tongue in their ass.
Me.
I’m some women.
Though…to be completely real Christmas tree truthful…there isn’t really a place I don’t like his tongue.
And the man has gone searching.
Really searching.
Thank fuck, Bella was with her grandparents that morning.
One well-timed bite paired to the perfectly timed thrust pushes me over the edge yet rather than slowing down to give me a moment for air or my pussy a second to stop screaming, he simply readjusts his arms.
Crosses them to basically cradle my backside.
Perpetually pumps into me and me into the tremulous toy that’s now rubbing and vibrating an already sensitive spot. Quivering around his cock becomes so ceaseless that I’m not even sure when I officially finish coming and start coming again. Twisting and turning my ankles while scraping and scratching his scalp alongside an inability to close my mouth all contribute to me looking as much as feeling like some sort of possessed Krampus creature who needs orgasms to survive.
It’s the farthest thing in mind from sexy; however, Igor’s euphoric groaning declares otherwise. “Fuck…Joeskie.” His precise pounding unexpectedly begins to waiver. “I’m so goddamn close.”
The announcement instantly floods me with me a sense of empowerment.
Excitement to watch him come.
Elation knowing it’s me he’s coming for.
With.
I give his hair one sharp tug at the same time I purr, “Snow me, Forty-Two.”
An incomprehensible mixture of English and Russian rush out of him split seconds prior to searing streams flooding every inch of space possible.
Additional moans are brought out by the hot, thick trickles starting to slip past the point where our bodies are connected.
My mouth lowers to comment on how much I equally love being covered in his cum and having it deep inside when light from the outside suddenly cuts into the room causing us to hastily tug our bottoms back in place, barely managing to hide our lower halves let alone the vibrator he’s stuffed in his pocket.
The instant Igor’s eyes settle on the intruder, he unhappily grouses, “Seriously, Mom! You don’t fuckin’ knock?!”
“It’s the pantry,” Anna snips back at the same time she drops her hand onto her hip. “Why the fuck would I knock?” Her head tilting to one side is attached to a narrowing of her eyes. “And even if I did, who the fuck would answer? Fruit Loops?”
“That reminds me,” I thoughtlessly mumble while briefly eyeballing the mess I need to sweep up. “We’re gonna need more Fruit Loops.”
Redness noticeably creeps into my boyfriend’s complexion during his slightly shame-filled scolding, “Joeski…”
“It’s fine,” his mother insists on a toss of the hand. “I’m sex positive!”
Swallowing my giggles while Ig openly gags is a struggle.
“Come on, Mom. Don’t say shit like that.” Her son instantly shakes his head and continues complaining, “That sounds like you’ve got an STD.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve never had one of those. Or an STI.”
“Mne ne nuzhno bylo eto znat'.” He grumbles in obvious disgust. “I could’ve lived my entire life not knowing that.”
“Then why’d you bring it up?!”
This time there’s no stopping laughter from filling the room, a sound that causes them both to beam widely.
Igor drapes one arm around my shoulder, knocks me with a kiss on the side of my forehead, and says, “Not that you’re not welcomed here-”
“That makes it sound like I’m not.”
“But uh…why the random drop in?”
Her curious gaze immediately glides over to me. “You didn’t tell him yet?”
My mouth can’t even consider opening before he’s looking down at me and asking, “Tell me what?”
Once more, the opportunity to answer is interrupted, this time by the man desperate to repair some of his damaged relationship with his son. Rather than ask questions, he simply grins wide and folds his arms over his chest. “Ah…I do not miss these days.”
“ForGretzkySake,” Ig grunts, redness now coating his neck along with his face.
“Rasslab'sya, synok.” Artyom impishly grins. “Your mother and I are both pro-sex. We’ve always been pro-sex. We’ll always be pro-sex no matter which way the puck goes.” He lets his eyes swing back and forth between us. “Am I using that right?”
“I don’t think you’re using it the way you think you’re using it,” I smoothly inform.