Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Mmm-hmm?” I have to turn my head to look at him—I’m lying on my side, facing away from him and he’s lying on his back.
“Are you okay?” He reaches out a hand and it lands on my arm. “Hey—you’re shaking!” He sounds really worried about me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just c-c-cold,” I say. “It’s all right—I mean, I’ll be f-f-fine.”
“No, you won’t—not if you keep shivering like that. Come here.” And he wraps an arm around me and pulls me close.
I think about protesting that I’m fine, but the truth is I’m not. And the minute I come in contact with his big, hard body I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s so warm.
“Mmm, you’re as hot as a furnace.” I turn to face him and snuggle close to his side. I don’t even care that my nightgown has ridden up so that my bare breasts are pressed against the side of his chest. I do try to keep my hips back, though. I’m afraid if I rub against him down below he’ll feel how wet my pussy still is and that would be so embarrassing.
“I’m a furnace, huh? Well you’re a little icicle,” he growls and pulls me even closer.
I wince in embarrassment as I feel my pussy pressing right against the bare skin of his side, just above the waistband of his trousers. Can he tell how wet I am?
If he can, he doesn’t say anything. He just rubs his big hands up and down my back and pulls me closer so that my head is resting on his broad chest.
“Mmm, baby—you feel so good in my arms,” he murmurs, which sends a flash of heat right through me.
“It…it feels good to me too,” I admit breathlessly. Recklessly, I throw my right leg over his hip. Yes, it brings me into even closer contact with him, but I tell myself I don’t care.
“That’s right—get comfortable. You getting warmer now?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you.” I nuzzle against him, pressing my face to the side of his throat and breathing in his spicy fragrance. “What’s that cologne you wear? It smells so good.”
“Don’t wear cologne,” Kane rumbles. “Never have.”
“Oh…I guess it’s just the way your skin smells, then.” I inhale again. “Mmm, it’s really nice.”
“Thanks, baby. I like your scent too.” He presses his face to my hair and inhales. “Mmm, so sweet.”
“Thank you,” I say, wishing I could get even closer. I’m rubbing against his hipbone now—I can feel it against my pussy. He’s so big and hard all over—I swear I can feel my outer lips parting as I wiggle and squirm against him.
“Whoa, baby—settle down. You’re all over the place!” He gives my bare ass a smack and I gasp and go still but my clit is still throbbing.
“Sorry,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m just…restless, that’s all.”
“You’re ‘hungry,’” Kane corrects me. “You got me off but you didn’t help yourself.”
“Help myself?” I ask, feeling my cheeks getting hot. “You mean I didn’t, uh…”
“You didn’t pet your soft little pussy—didn’t make yourself come,” he growls softly in my ear. “Isn’t that what you need, baby? Don’t you need to come?”
“I…I shouldn’t.” I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and hotter.
“Why not?” Kane asks reasonably. “Do you feel guilty when you touch yourself? Because you shouldn’t—it’s natural to want to pet your soft little pussy sometimes.”
God, his words, spoken in that deep, rumbling voice, makes me so hot.
“I’m…I don’t need that,” I protest even though I do—I really, really do.
“Yes, you do,” Kane counters. His voice drops in the darkness. “I can feel how wet and hot you are, baby. Your little pussy needs to be touched. She needs to come. If you’re embarrassed to do it yourself, do you want me to do it for you?”
“You…you’d do that? I mean, you want to…”
“To pet your soft little pussy until you come for me,” he growls. “Yes, baby—I want that very fucking much. But only if you want to let me do it,” he adds.
“But…wouldn’t it be wrong?” I ask, nibbling my lower lip. “I mean, you’re my brother. I shouldn’t let you…you know, touch me there.”
“You let me touch your breasts,” he reminds me. “When I was hungry to touch someone, you gave yourself to me.”
His words make me think. Have I been selfish, barely letting him touch me? After all, how could one hand job erase three long years of unbearably lonely confinement without a single person to love him or touch him?
“Are…are you hungry now?” I ask softly. “Do you need…do you want to touch me again, big brother?”
“Only if you want me to,” he repeats. “But yes, baby—I’m fucking hungry. Hungry for your soft little body—hungry to make you come.”
“Then do it.” I scoot away from him a little and lay on my back. My nightgown is still pushed up, baring my breasts and pussy. I feel so naked…so vulnerable. And yet so hot.