Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I don’t stop him when he pulls off. He buries his face in my balls, licking and sucking on them, while I pet his head. “You’re so good at taking my cock. You hate it, but you want to be my good boy.”
I cry out when he bites my thigh, but then a laugh falls from my lips. He’s unpredictable, and that shouldn’t be a good thing, but with Dean, everything seems to be.
“Or maybe I just want to possess you the way you want to with me.” He swallows my dick again, using his hand and his mouth in tandem to make me race higher and higher. He’s not even naked, and he’s the sexiest person I’ve ever seen. All anger, sadness, strength, and vulnerability that reaches me on levels no one else has found.
The blowjob just started, and I’m already seconds away from shooting, want to see him take down my cum so I’m marking him on the inside the same way I do with his skin.
“That’s it. Take my dick, little fighter. You want it, don’t you, want all my cum. Bet you’d let me come in that sweet little ass of yours too, wouldn’t you?”
He looks up at me through hooded, lust-filled eyes. His pupils flare. Jesus, he fucking wants that. Wants me to take him raw, and if I do that, he really will belong to me.
My hips pump forward at the thought. Colors dance behind my eyelids as my balls draw up, the fight not to come already lost. I fill his mouth, Dean swallowing me down until he’s milked me dry.
He shoves onto his knees, ripping down his shorts—my shorts—and working his cock furiously.
I lift my shirt for him, giving him my abs to paint because I’m sure as shit not wasting his load anywhere except on or in me.
Just as he’s about to come, veins bulging in his arm and bruised neck, he changes positions, gets closer to my face in time for the first spurt of his cum to hit me in the cheek. The next is on my mouth, and the cocky motherfucker grins.
His hot, sticky load covers my face, and I let him do it, want him to do it just like I know he wants me in his ass. When he falls to the bed beside me, the strangest thing happens—I laugh. I don’t know why I’m laughing or what the hell it means, but I can’t stop myself from doing it all the same.
This light feeling dances around in my chest, one that’s so fucking unfamiliar, I don’t recognize that either.
Not knowing what else to do, I roll over on top of him, chase his lips with mine. Dean pretends to fight me off while I rub my cummy cheek on his, and we’re both now doing this weird, almost happy kind of dance.
He grabs my hair, fists it in his hand, and our eyes meet, all sound dying on our tongues. We just…look at each other.
Are you as lost as I am? I want to ask him but would never be able to let those words free.
As if he doesn’t know what to do or say either, Dean pulls my head down, kissing me, letting me share his cum with him, our tongues tangling together, battling for dominance.
And then…then I simply drop my forehead to his, and we breathe each other in, take each other’s air the way we’d done with the weed. The first words I’m able to find are, “You did good today…with Aislin.”
He rolls his eyes. “All I did was go to class with her.”
“It’s more than that to me.” I roll off him, unwilling to say or dissect anything more. “The computer shit, I could use that. Use your help sometimes. There are things I sometimes need to know that I can’t find. You think you can do that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not the kinda shit you’re supposed to be doing, though. You get that, right?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot. If I had a problem with trouble, the rampant drug dealing would have chased me away. I looked up your name. I know who you are and what that means.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I lie, but we both know it does. He’s worked some kind of magic on me and made me trust him a little, but I can’t give him much. Not yet. Probably not ever.
Dean doesn’t speak right away, just moves slowly, climbs on top of me and holds my wrists down. “I want it…what you have. I shouldn’t, but I fucking do.”
It doesn’t make any sense, but I swear an explosion goes off in my chest, one that might end up wreaking havoc on my life later, yes, but one that feels so fucking good. So right.
“We’ll see,” I tell him.
Dean nods and gets off me. He picks up The Count, and I gently work it free from his hands…and open it. He frowns but then settles in close, and we quietly read together.