Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
The desperate pulsing between my legs increases and I whimper from needing something I can’t name. He breaks our kiss and stares down at me with approval in his eyes.
“That feels so good,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Everything you’re doing. The way you’re holding me.”
He releases a groaning sound of approval and nuzzles against my neck, sucking at a sensitive spot I didn’t know I have. “I like the way you fit against my body.” His hand squeezes my hip.
“You make me feel secure.” Both body and mind.
“Good.” He tugs the cup of my bra down and my body jerks when his fingers brush against my hardened nipple. Underneath me, his body shakes with restraint.
His other hand moves lower, sliding under the waistband of my sweatpants. My breath catches in my lungs as he slides his fingers over my sheer panties.
I gasp and jerk my hips up.
“Like that?” he whispers against my ear.
I exhale a shaky breath and nod.
“Say it.” He strokes over the damp material right along the seam of my lips and groans. “Your panties are soaking wet.”
“Sorry.”
His movements stop. “What do you mean sorry?”
I try to shrug but he has me held so tight, my shoulders have nowhere to go.
He kisses my cheek. “It’s a good thing.” His voice drops to a low, sensual rasp as his fingers slide over my lips and up to my clit. “Your body likes what we’re doing.”
It’s almost a question.
“I do. A lot,” I whisper. Especially the way he says, “What we’re doing” instead of “What I’m doing to you.” Somehow that makes a big difference.
“Good.” Another kiss on my cheek. I could drown in his kisses alone.
“Tell me what you like better.” He rubs up and down over my clit, circles it, then settles two fingers on either side.
I take a gulp of air and wiggle my hips, spreading my legs wider.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Yes, please do it again.”
“With pleasure.” He takes his time sliding and rubbing, never pressing for more or even trying to move my underwear out of his way.
My breath stutters. “That feels really, really good,” I whimper.
I’m so close to something. My body straining but not quite reaching what it needs. A whine of frustration slips out of me.
“There’s no hurry. I’ve got you.” He presses more kisses to my neck and cheek. “Relax and close your eyes. Just let your body feel. Stop thinking so much.”
I never stop thinking.
But for him, I want to try.
Why can’t I stop wondering how I measure up to every other woman he’s ever held?
“You’re so pretty stretched out like this for me,” he whispers in my ear. His strokes increase in pressure. “I could touch you here all night. Just like this.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. Endless moans and high whimpers scrape against my throat.
“Love those sexy little sounds you’re making.”
The whole point of this was to teach me how to please a man. How can he be so focused on my pleasure?
My hips buck against his hand. I try to hold still but he breathes out, “Fuck yes” like he’s in awe of my body’s every movement. “Do that again. Again. Keep going.”
“Oh!” Little stars burst behind my eyelids and a loud buzzing in my ears drowns out everything. After a few heartbeats, I blink my eyes open and find him staring at me. I curl my hand against his cheek, pulling him closer. Our lips meet. “Thank you,” I whisper. “That was really nice.”
“Nice?” He lifts two teasing eyebrows.
Did I just insult him again?
He dips his finger under my panties. I hiss as he touches me with nothing between us, except all my hair down there.
“I didn’t…Guys usually prefer no hair, right? I wasn’t sure…it’s usually a little tidier.” My entire body floods with heat. Why did I let time get away from me today and forget to shave?
“Stop.” He spreads his hand, cupping me, and lets out a long, satisfied groan that vibrates against my ear. “You feel perfect.” He inhales a sharp breath. “I love that you’re so fucking wet,” he hisses as he glides one finger between my lips, heading lower.
Fear grabs me and jerks my body to a stop.
His fingers stop exploring but stay where they are. “Why are you tensing up?” he asks, his breath warm against my cheek. “Hmm? Tell me.”
“I don’t really like that.”
“Don’t like what? Be specific.”
The hand under my panties remains still. Like a car with the emergency brake pulled up, not going anywhere. But the hand anchoring me to his body shifts under my shirt and cups one breast, lightly teasing my nipple.
“What don’t you like?” he asks again.
God, this is mortifying. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut.
I did ask him to help me, though. “I don’t like, you know, fingers rammed inside me.” I jab my finger in the air like I’m stabbing at an elevator button.