Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
So I go to push away from him. But again, I should’ve known.
If I dared to slow down and break our kiss, he’d only pull me closer. He’d only fist my hair harder and press our mouths together, clacking our teeth. He’d only growl in displeasure and kiss me harder. He’d make me hump his body, make me leave a stain on his clothes, leave a trail of my juices. Isn’t that something he loved from before? He used to love it when I’d come in his lap and leave the evidence behind. In fact, he’d make sure that I left the evidence. He made sure I came so hard and so much that there would be a stain of my juices on his pants. And that always made me go crazy. Crazier, even. His domination, his possessiveness, the way he used to be almost desperate for my orgasms, even more than me.
And in turn I’d ride him harder, and I am.
My plan completely backfired and instead of coming up to the surface, I’m drowning in him even more. Drowning in the quicksand of his kiss. I’m hanging from the ceiling and spinning like a top. Somehow though, I still remember my initial goal, and somehow, I have enough wherewithal to pull at his hair and bite his lip, making him both shudder and grunt. But it’s enough to break our connection for a second so I can whisper, my eyes barely open and unseeing, “N-not here. Not where anyone can s-see.”
It reminds me so much of our time before, when he’d come to the club and I’d take him away from the crowd to give him a private show, that when he comes back to kiss me, probably ignoring my plea, I let him. That was all I had in me anyway. I can’t be any more rational or present in the moment than this. I can’t live in the real world when I get to live in his kiss, his mouth, his thrusting tongue and his rough hands. His sweet taste and his guttural moans.
But again, for the millionth time, I should’ve known. He won’t just ignore my plea, because he starts to walk. I can feel his long and lunging steps taking us away somewhere, so we aren’t so out in the open. I also know that he doesn’t do it for his benefit, he does it for mine. He’d be damned if anyone saw me like this, wrapped around him, my body writhing and humping, my mouth fused to his as we kiss and kiss and don’t stop. And I don’t know how I got so lucky. I don’t know what I did to be the object of his desire, his obsession. His toxic and beautiful, over-the-top obsession that he said he’d explain to me with graphs and diagrams.
I know my luck will run out soon though. Luck never lasts long, especially not with me. Not in this case. But now is not the time to think about it. Not when he’s still kissing me and taking me away somewhere. Not when I know that when we get there, it’s only going to make things better. I’m going to get something else, something more.
More than kissing. Something like an orgasm or multiple orgasms. Because isn’t that what always happened before? And somehow, I know we’re going to go over the edge tonight. We have to. We’ve waited too long, see. We’ve stretched it out too much, this thing between us. It needs to snap and it’s going to. Tonight. Right now.
I’m not sure how long he walks with me in his arms and our lips moving against each other, but suddenly we’ve come to a halt. My back thumps against something, a tree I think, and I’m ready. I’m ready for it to happen. In fact, I widen my thighs even more so he has space to settle. I cross my ankles behind his back and grind my pelvis against his. I grind and grind until I hit the treasure. The holy grail.
His dick.
All hard and hot. And stabbing me in the core even though it’s still sheathed.
And I get so horny at the feel of it after such a long time, so lusty and wanton that I moan even louder. I move even faster because I missed it. I missed the feel of it. I took it for granted. When I’d feel it before. At my back and in the crack of my ass. There were times when I felt it rubbing against my tummy, hitting my clit and I’d be so ashamed of how good it made me feel. So ashamed that one stroke and I’d be coming like the slut I am.
Not anymore though. If I’m a slut for his dick, then so be it. If I’m a whore, I’m his whore. And he must be thinking the same thing because as soon as he’s settled between my open thighs, he grabs my ass and helps me move. Actually, help isn’t the right word at all. He’s not helping me, he’s moving me up and down himself. Through the sheer strength in his arms, he’s practically shoving me up and pulling me down against his dick. As if jacking himself off with my body.