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)
I clutch the back of her neck more protectively, my fingers rising up into her hair. I’ve stopped moving inside her.
“Rocky,” she cries, a needy little fucking cry.
With a fistful of hair, I pull her head back, and her glare hits me from upside down, especially as I say, “What were you saying about not begging me?”
“Shut up,” she growls.
I ram into her pussy, and her lips part while her glare remains. She likes this, though—our eyes drilling into each other while I fuck her deep.
“You need to hurry,” she moans out.
“I hope they walk in,” I grit back, our bodies slick with sweat. “I hope they see me destroying their sister’s tight little pussy.”
“Liar,” she cries, giving me a hotter glare.
I’d grin if I weren’t so fucking pent-up.
And then my phone rings.
“Rocky, don’t—”
I’m already grabbing the cellphone. “Be quiet.”
“You wouldn’t,” she rasps, sounding half challenging, half uncertain.
I let go of her hair and push her fully down again. Caging Phoebe with my weight, I stay inside of her. “Your fake boyfriend is calling me.” I place the phone near her mouth. “Want to say hi?”
“No.”
“I will.”
“Rock—” She cuts herself off as I hit the green accept call button, along with speakerphone.
“Jake,” I answer and force all arousal out of my voice.
Phoebe stays deathly quiet. Especially as I make slow-burning, languid movements inside her.
“Are you busy?” he asks.
“No, I’m just twiddling my thumbs and waiting around for your fucking phone call.” I drive deeper, flexing forward in pumps that dig. Phoebe presses her forehead to the floor, trembling beneath me.
“Nice to talk to you, too,” Jake replies, sounding like he’s in a hurry.
I fuck Phoebe without stopping. She is a swollen vise around my cock, and it’s all I can do to control my breathing.
“I’m on my way to a lunch with my father,” Jake tells me. “But I need to know if you play tennis.”
I sit up on my knees. “Yeah, I play tennis.” I clutch the crook of her hips and pound her quietly, seeing my cock slide inside her pussy. It’s an image I could watch on repeat, one that likely won’t leave me.
She’s clawing at the floorboards, struggling not to make a noise. I suck in a breath through my nose. My muscles are on fucking fire. I want to unload in her.
“Trent needs a doubles partner on Saturday,” Jake says.
“Yeah?” I hover back over Phoebe, and I pinch her cheeks and turn her head, so she sees me.
Her glare is murderous. Her lips pressed tightly shut.
I glare back and mouth, Come.
She shakes her head, and I grind deeper.
Her lips break apart into a breathy sound, but Jake doesn’t hear. He’s telling me, “Collin broke his wrist doing a backflip at the golf course, so he can’t play with him. If you’re serious about befriending my brother, that’s your best way in. If you’re good at tennis.”
A rough, pleasured sound scorches my lungs. Not letting it out, I level my voice. “I’m good enough.” The next push inside Phoebe has her pulsing around my cock, and I know she’s coming. Quickly, I cover her mouth with my hand, and she releases a strangled noise. I muffle it, and I take Jake off speaker.
“I don’t like this plan, just to make that clear,” he says, sounding more distant.
My neck strains as I control my shortened breath, forcing myself not to hit a peak with her. “Why not?” I ask as I put the phone to my ear.
“Trent isn’t an easy person to be around, and I’m…”
My brows arch. He’s what? “Are you worried about me?”
“I don’t like him around any of my friends.”
“We’re friends? That’s news to me.”
“What would you call us then?”
“Colleagues. Coworkers. Two guys who can’t fucking stand each other but have to work together.” I don’t pull out of Phoebe, and I observe her catching her breath.
“Then let’s put it this way, Grey. I can stand being around you more than I can stand being around Trent.”
“Save the concern for someone who needs it. I can handle your brother.” With a quick “Gotta go,” we both hang up.
Quickly, I change positions with Phoebe. Putting her on my lap, I sink her down on my cock, and she’s in a weak sex haze as I fuck her fast and hard.
“Rocky.” She’s gripping my shoulders, and I come when she orgasms again and cries into the crook of my neck. “Fuck you,” she moans, her voice hoarse and raspy.
I grunt out “Fuck” as I milk my climax, pumping into her. Slow strokes. God, that feels fucking…I hold the back of her head and lick my lips before I kiss her.
She melts a little.
We’re both breathing hard.
When she climbs off, she’s quick to lift her dress and find her bra and panties. I put on my clothes unhurriedly. Her eyes dart to the entryway more than once.