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)
His piercings. I guess that’s something I should think about.
“Do I, uh, need lube for those?” I say to him as he comes over to the bed.
“Those?” he asks, brows raised.
“Your piercings. On your dick.”
He grins. “Oh. No. You don’t have any idea how wet you are, do you?” And at that he brings a hand between my legs and with his eyes locked on mine, slowly inserts a finger.
“You’re soaked. “
Now two fingers. Then three fingers. I gasp as I tense up, clenching around him. But it isn’t painful in the slightest. Of course I’d have to multiply three by, like, seven, to substitute his cock.
He moves over me, grabbing the base of his cock and pressing it softly against my entrance. “If it’s too much, I’ll fix you up. How about that?”
I nod but he doesn’t push inside. Not yet.
He runs his hands, palms flat, up the sides of my waist, sliding over my breasts, his thumbs expertly brushing over my nipples.
“Look at you,” he whispers, pinching my sensitive skin until I moan. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. See how unbelievable you are. Every single inch of you is pure poetry.”
He drags his lips over my breasts, his tongue flicking and teasing and tasting. “I want to write you with my tongue.”
It swirls around my nipple as he sucks it into his mouth.
“Sonnets.”
His lips trail up, hot, wet, warm, to my collarbone.
“Stanzas.”
To my neck.
“Lyrics.”
He can write me anyway he wants.
But I’m getting impatient.
My hips buck up toward him, his cock hard and long and thick and so, so close.
“Come inside me,” I whisper to him, holding the back of his neck that’s already damp from sweat. “I need you.”
He moans into my neck. It sounds like a symphony.
“I like hearing that.”
I run my hands down over the muscles in his firm back, marveling at them, that I can touch him like this, that this is what we’re doing.
It no longer feels odd or strange. It feels like this is what we were made to do, to be with each other just like this.
My hands stop at his ass and I grab hold, shrugging him into me.
“Fuck,” he swears. “Okay.”
He adjusts himself slightly, reaches down between my legs to position himself.
Slowly pushes in.
The pressure is intense.
I breathe in deep through my nose, treating it like a panic attack, because if I hold my breath, if I don’t relax, if I get too tense, this is going to hurt like hell.
“You okay?” he whispers and when I meet his eyes, they’re wet with awe.
I nod. “Keep going.”
His nostrils flare as he pushes in further and I will my body to expand, to take him all in. I bite my lip in pain, expecting it to get worse before it gets better. But with myself being so wet and the slow, laborious way he’s working his way in, I accept the pain. It starts to dissolve into pleasure.
“Jesus,” he whispers hoarsely. “You’re so tight.”
“I know.” I try and smile.
I also thought this would be weird, the prolonged eye contact, the intimacy. But it’s not at all. It’s as easy and natural as breathing.
Then he’s all the way in and I’ve never felt so full in my life, like he’s filling all my empty, hollow places with starshine and fire. It’s just so fucking good.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Your cunt feels better than it tastes.”
“You have a dirty mouth,” I manage to say.
“You have no idea,” he says roughly, his lips capturing mine in a deliriously slow kiss that matches the deliriously slow way he’s thrusting into me.
Everything feels like bliss, the pain now melting into something that makes me wild and thrilled. I dig my hands into his back, my nails leaving marks and our kiss gets messier, teeth, lips, tongue, mouths completely missing each other.
I’m starving for him, starving for years, going mad.
I had no idea it could be like this.
But I have a feeling it’s not like this for everyone.
It’s like this because it’s me and it’s Laz.
His pace begins to quicken.
Hips start slamming into me.
His ass bunches and flexes under my grip.
His cock slides in and out of me with ease.
But it’s not effortless.
Laz is working as he thrusts inside of me, sweat dripping off his brow from his own exertion, grunting hoarsely with every deep shove. The headboard slams against the wall. The bed moves. Everything shakes. There must be an energy being created from the two of us together, like sunspots and solar flares. I’m surprised the power isn’t flickering.
And then his hand slips between my legs and he slows just enough to expertly slide his fingers over my clit.
Oh.
Oh.
I had no idea I was this close to coming until he gave me a helping hand and…
Fuck…
“Laz,” I moan but it sounds more like a whimper, like he needs to put me out of this sweet sweet misery.