Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“I did.”
“And our son?”
It’s impossible not to mirthfully roll my eyes. “What are you gonna do if it’s a girl?”
“Double check the VIN,” he playfully pokes as I return to scrolling for rings on my phone with both hands. “Return it to its rightful owner.”
An amused headshake is all I can deliver.
“What are you doing?” Lazily tucking one arm behind his head precedes him pointing to the screen. “Oh, I like that one. Those look like tire marks.”
“I think that’s wood.”
“I like that one.” He gestures again to another choice further down. “Those look like loose nails.”
“Those are something called…” my face cranes a little closer to read, “trigons.”
“That sounds like a wannabe Transformer.”
Giggles thoughtlessly escape during my continued browsing.
“Oh! Oh!” Kid stops my perusing to point a third time. “I realllyyyyy like that one, but not in yellow gold.”
“You already have one,” I tease at the same time I meet his stare. “We need one for Mutt.”
“I don’t want shit in yellow either,” grumbles the male to my right, instantly collecting our attention.
“How about we get you a collar for your neck instead?” Humor meanders through my expression while watching him leisurely scratch his chest. “It’s like a big engagement ring that also tells people where to return you when you get lost in your old age.”
“Awfully fucking mouthy this morning, Rabbit.” An oversized yawn is executed with his eyes still closed. “Don’t make me put something in it.”
The tasty threat has me tightening my thighs and Kid salaciously suggesting, “Why don’t you put something in mine instead?”
At that, Mutt lifts one lid and languorously strokes his cock under the blanket. “You want this instead of coffee?”
Reluctance for him to nod is non-existent.
“Then come suck, you greedy, little fuck,” huskily instructs our fiancé on a swift cover removal. “Across Rabbit’s lap.” Both of his hands get tucked underneath his head. “Ass up.”
Lowering my hands occurs prior to him getting in the commanded position; however, the instant he’s there, the instant his balls are dangling right above the fingers that were holding my phone, I can’t stop myself from feathering them.
Cupping them.
Tugging gently but firmly enough that he has no choice except to moan alongside his swallowing.
“Fuckkkkk,” Sir hungrily groans in tandem with his hips lifting. “Do that shit again, you dirty, little slut.”
So, I do.
I lightly stroke his nuts once more before pulling.
This time rather than merely groaning, he rocks into the action.
Wordlessly requests more.
Convinces me to wind my hand around his cock and latch the other onto his locks.
Shove him further down Sir’s shaft.
Force him to choke.
Gag.
Gasp for air while we watch spit trickle towards the base of our partner’s dick.
“Fuckkkk,” huffs our fiancé, preparing to replace my hand with his. “Keep that shit up.”
“No hands, Sir,” I saucily scold. “Just watch.” Dragging Kid to the very tip of his cock allows him the briefest moment of reprieve. “Watch me feed our favorite, filthy fuck his breakfast.”
Deep, dark rumbles rattle his chest and reverberate around the room.
Those sounds combined with Kid’s whimpers convince me to savagely push him back down.
Squeeze his dick tighter.
Slowly stroke it with my hand to the same unhurried speed I’m using his mouth to blow Sir.
“Get that shit in his fuckin’ throat,” demands our third as his breathing becomes more labored. “Don’t let our hungry, little fuck starve.”
Needier whines are attached to headier sucking.
And bobbing.
And bouncing.
Exchanging gradual jerks for faster ones naturally leads to Kid abandoning all languidness.
The feeling of his fingers anchoring deeper into the mattress and his knees knocking into my phone and his cock swelling against my palm spur me to rapidly smear precum up and down and up and down his length to the same ceaseless speed that he’s slathering his spit on Sir’s shaft.
His hitched breaths add additional constrictions that have our fiancé practically levitating off the mattress.
Groaning.
Growling.
Tensing him from toes to torso.
Straining his neck.
Tightening his jaw.
Forgoing breathing for fear of missing a second of the back breaking bliss.
“Is it good, babe?” leaves me on a purr as I pick up the pace of pumping until it’s no longer clear if I’m fucking him with my hand or if my hand is being fucked by him. “Is that what you needed?” I airily pant about the stickiness coating every inch of my fingers. “Is that what our perfect, little fuck needed?”
His response is delivered in the delicious form of a raspy grunt cough, a raspy grunt cough that has our future husband huskily huffing, “Fuckkkkkkk, you dirty, little whore…” His larger frame flexes in obvious resistance. “You just want me to feed him cum, don’t you?”
“Come,” I coo and lean in closer to them both. “Come in his mouth and then let him feed it to me.”
“Fuck!” escapes at the top of his lungs prior to propelling himself upward to pound our younger soulmates throat once…twice…three times more. “Fuckkkk!”