Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
My mouth opens to say something, probably “like honey?” but he dives his face back into me and I let out a low, guttural noise, like it’s being torn from my throat. I push my hips back into his mouth, a wild, uncontrollable need burning through me.
“Deeper,” I plead, so desperate for my release, my cheek pressed against the door.
His tongue snakes inside me, then a finger, then two, and I’m thrusting back into him like a fucking animal.
I’m so close to coming.
I’m on that ridge, the fall inevitable.
Then he pulls back and I actually whimper in disappointment.
“You want more?” he asks gruffly, holding onto my ass. “Tell me what you want. Where do you want me? How do you want me to make you come?”
“So many questions,” I whine, breathless and insatiable. “How about all of them?”
“Done.” He spreads my legs wider and pushes his face back in, his tongue, fingers, and mouth absolutely everywhere.
I come instantly, my body a hair trigger. I’m a writhing, moaning, bucking mess of scattered nerves, my limbs dissolving like honey. I’m barely conscious and I don’t know how I’m still upright.
He gets to his feet, runs his slick hands down my spine and then grips my hips as he positions himself, and with one long, slow push he eases inside me. I’m so wet and ready that he glides right in. But oh, when he pulls back out, that slow drag and piercings hitting just the right spot, somehow, I’m groaning for him all over again.
“Don’t stop,” I hiss as he plunges back inside, deeper this time, coaxing another unrestrained noise out of my throat. “Never stop with me.”
“Fuck,” he swears, gravelly and low. “I’d do this until my dying day if you’d let me, Marina.” Then he moves faster, small stabs of his hips pushing deeper and deeper while his skin slaps my skin louder and louder. The smell of sex, sweat, and musk fills the room.
I’m completely overwhelmed. It’s too perfect.
It’s everything, everything.
He’s everything, everything.
I close my eyes and imagine what we look like to someone else if they were to peek into one of the windows. They’d see the ropey muscles of his forearms as he digs his fingers into my hips, the raw, uninhibited fucking in this empty room, the sight of his thick cock sliding into me from behind over and over again, merciless.
I’m pretty sure the whole trailer is starting to shake.
He leans forward, his fingers sliding down and finding the smooth, swollen face of my clit. He always wants me to come with him, so I know he’s about to unload at any moment. But for some reason, I hold back, as hard as I can, wanting to pay attention to his beautiful release without losing myself at the same time.
Drops of his sweat fall on my back. He continues pounding me, his hips changing the angle until it makes me gasp for air, my back arching. His breathing is shaky and his muscles are trembling from the strain, but he keeps going and going.
I think this trailer might just tip over now.
There’s a moment, a sharp intake of air, then the room fills with the sounds of his harsh grunts, the sound of him coming, a sound I love so much that it pushes me over the edge. It’s the signal of his undoing, and his fingers press so hard into my skin that I’m afraid I might break in two. I am breaking in two. I am stretched thin, a pane of fragile glass, and I am breaking into bliss.
I can barely hang on, supporting myself on the door, my palms are slipping and sliding. I’m sliding inside, my heart, my soul, moving closer to the edge. Wave after wave of emotion slams through me, filling the blank spaces, the cracks, the parts of me that have shattered off into space. I can barely breathe. My whole body is aching for him.
“Sweet girl,” Laz whispers hoarsely, leaning forward against my sweaty back. “My sunshine.” He rests his cheek on my shoulder blades and his ragged breaths rise and fall against me. “That was even better than the show.”
I smile, my cheek pressed against the door. He straightens up, lifts himself off of me, and with a hand on my hip, pulls himself out. I take a moment to run my fingers under my eyes before turning around to face him, knowing my mascara is probably smudged.
Laz stands there, pants at his ankles, damp shirt bunched up, showing off his ink and glorious six-pack. Somehow, he’s even sweatier than he was before. Peace resides in his eyes. He pulls up his pants, comes over to me, and pulls me into a wet, passionate kiss, his lips pressing hard against mine, his tongue tasting like me, like salt, like sweat.