Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Maybe she thought I needed encouragement, because she stroked up the length of my erection, and I had to close my eyes against the wave of pleasure. But I didn’t need any encouragement. I was so fucking hard and throbbing inside my pants. My dick pushed against the strained fabric, begging for release.
Chelsea planted one hand behind her for support and leaned back as I glided my palms over the cups of her bra. The fabric was thin lace, and the hard beads of her nipples dragged against my skin, calling for my attention. As I caressed and traced them with my fingertips, her sweater rode up on my forearms, exposing her taut stomach.
She’d said she’d been cold earlier, but she didn’t flinch now as the air crept in. Maybe she was too focused on the way we were touching each other. She licked her lips and struggled to catch her breath when I rolled a nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
I leaned forward, whispering against the shell of her ear, “Are you still cold?”
“No.” Her hushed voice matched mine. “Why?”
“Because”—I traced the edge of her ear with the tip of my tongue—“I was hoping I could see a little more of you.”
As soon as I’d gotten the words out, she straightened, grabbed the sides of her sweater, and pulled it over her head. Her long dark hair tumbled down onto her shoulders as she set the sweater on the stone beside her.
The light from my phone was low and artificial, but it couldn’t disguise how gorgeous she was. Her pale bra was sheer, doing nothing to hide the tight dark nipples beneath the lace or her full breasts, and the sight of her was mouthwatering.
My dick jerked, wanting to get closer to her.
As soon as her sweater was off, we both kicked into high gear. I couldn’t get my fingers inside her bra fast enough, and she had both hands on the front of my jeans, working to undo the button. Or maybe we were racing, trying to see who could get a hand on the other first.
I curled my fingers around the strap of her bra and jerked it down over her shoulder, peeling the cup away from her while ignoring how fast she’d dropped my zipper. She wedged her hand inside my undone jeans while I clasped a firm hand around her breast, narrowly beating her to the finish line.
Shit, the moan she made as I squeezed her. It sounded like sin.
But then she shoved her hand under the waistband of my underwear and wrapped her delicate fingers around me, and my mind emptied of thought.
“Fuck,” I groaned appreciatively.
The slow tight stroke of her fist was so good, it felt indecent. The muscles in my legs tightened to keep me upright because my knees went soft. It’d been a while for me, but this . . . Was it way better than I remembered? My forehead pressed to hers, and I exhaled with deep satisfaction as I stared into her bottomless eyes.
Her nipples were sharp points, either from the cold or my attention, or probably both. I snaked my hands around her back and focused on the clasp of her bra. Even the wisp of fabric between us was too much, and I needed it gone.
But what I also needed was for her to slow down, because the way she pumped her fist on me . . . I was going to embarrass myself.
Her pace wasn’t fast, but her grip had just the right amount of tension, and when she drew her hand up, she twisted her wrist. It meant her fingers clasped perfectly on my sensitive tip, making me flinch with pleasure and my heart skip erratically.
I had to distract her until I could get a hold of myself.
As soon as I had her bra undone, I unthreaded it from her arms, dropped it on top of her sweater, and dipped to capture a nipple in my mouth. It made it so she couldn’t reach me but also allowed her to focus solely on the sensations she was experiencing.
Her skin was so warm and soft, in perfect contrast to the harsh cold wind that blew through the trees. The trail of damp kisses I left across her breasts probably felt chilly, but if she was like me, this was okay—a fire raged inside her body.
My undone jeans sagged on my hips, and while I had one hand holding her breast steady, I jammed my other inside to give myself a stroke. It wasn’t maintenance, because I had no problems there . . . it was because licking and sucking and biting her was too hot. I couldn’t not touch myself while doing it.
I pictured us while I feasted on her skin. Her legs were wrapped around me, her short skirt hiked nearly to her waist, and I was bent over, my mouth latched on her. She was topless and leaning back, her breasts arched to the sky while I stroked myself.