Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Which he’s doing. With his other hand gripping his shaft, he says, “Open.”
“Open what?” I combat, trying not to panic.
“You’ve never heard of a blow job before?”
“Never heard of one I liked,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?”
My face burns. Stubbornness wins out again. Instead of answering, I unlock my jaw and part my lips for him.
He’s scrutinizing me. “Is this your first blow job?”
“What?” I try to draw back, but he cups my head, not letting me jerk away. “I’ve definitely told you I’ve given head before.” Maybe not while we were together, but he learned that fact somewhere along our twisty-turny history.
“You could’ve lied.”
“I didn’t,” I snap back.
“Okay, all right,” he says, seeing that I was truthful. “I’m just trying to understand…?”
“Understand what?”
“Why you look like a frightened little bird every time my cock is inches from your mouth.”
My heart races at an unnatural speed.
THIRTY-TWO
Rocky
“I’m not…” she starts to protest, but she can’t finish.
I study the way her collarbone juts in and out with short, choppy breaths. I can’t quite chalk it up to fear. Not when she’s fucking obstinate as hell. I love that about Phoebe—I love so much about this woman, but I’m going to lose my mind if she pushes herself to a place she’s A) not ready for, or God forbid B) terrified of.
She’s on her knees while I tower over her bare, vulnerable frame. Is it the position? Does she feel too defenseless? I hold the back of her skull, and her combative eyes are hoisted as they never tear from mine.
“Not what?” I prod. “Scared?”
“I’m not scared,” she says, sounding assured.
I believe her. “Do you want me to fuck your face?”
“Sure,” she retorts. “I dare you.”
“You dare me?” I look her over as she shifts her knees. Her thighs unconsciously spread. She’s turned on.
“Double-dog dare.”
“Oh, now I’m really tempted.”
“You should be. The dare lasts for thirty seconds before it’s rescinded.”
“The double-dog dare,” I correct.
She flips me off, then takes that same hand and wraps her fingers around my erection. Squeezing.
I let her slowly stroke my length, only to see her reaction. Blood pools south, a pounding heartbeat in my dick, and the urge to push into her mouth intensifies.
Phoebe is examining me, more interested in what I want, but I’m trying to make sense of her boundaries. We’re at this weird fucking standstill that I’m going to rip through.
I pry her hand off my length, and when she reaches back, I swat her away. Then I cup her chin. “Open your fucking mouth.”
“Fuck you,” she curses.
“You made the double-dog dare. You want to take it back? Now’s your chance before I fill your mouth with my erection, and you won’t be able to say Miami.”
She glares, but her breath catches in arousal. The dirty talk is a turn-on. She clutches the backs of my thighs. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she challenges, then parts her lips.
I stare down at Phoebe. At her big brown eyes, at her knees widening on the tub. At her mouth forming an O around my cock as I slowly, slowly flex into her. My muscles coil as the sensations strike one primal urge.
Come. Inside. Her.
She sucks me and licks around my head, like she understands what to do, but I fist her hair and stop her from working my cock herself.
I guide her head forward, making her take a few more inches, then I pull her back out. Her fingers dig into my thighs. Twice, I move her head back and forth. Ooh she does not like that. Her jaw tenses, likely wanting to shut.
Let’s try something else.
With a firm hand against her head, I root her in place and then rock into her mouth. Better. She groans around my shaft, her eyelids heavy with arousal. I’m about to describe what I’m doing to her out loud, but her body stiffens like she’s uncomfortable. Like this is not her thing.
So I pull out, and before she complains, I growl, “Stay still.” I clasp her jaw with one hand, and I stroke myself with the other.
Her eyes spark with desire.
Yeah. She loves this.
Watching me masturbate. I get off seeing her arousal overtake her haughty attitude, and she’s not fighting me. She’s not rigid and locked up. She’s melting. Trying desperately to stay upright.
Fucking Christ. My muscles are up in flames.
I slide my fingers into her hair, until my palm finds the back of her head again. I just hold her, the threat of forcing my cock into her lips is there. The danger. She emits this tiny, aching breath, and it sends me.
I let myself release, a groan scratching my throat, and I come on her face.
Phoebe shuts her eyes, her lips permanently parted as pleasured breaths stagger out of her. Fuck, that might be the hottest thing I’ve done to her…since the last time we fucked.