Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Her ass cheeks in my hands feel so right. So does spreading her open. She gasps, but it’s a good gasp. The kind where she nudges her feet open a little bit further to help me.
I just go for it, running my tongue up, straight to the tight ring of muscle back there. I curl my fingers around and stroke her pussy, soaking them before I circle her clit. Pushing back the hood, I press down with just enough force that her hips rock forward and back. I’m there to catch her with my fingers, and when she pushes back, she has my tongue.
I feast on her back here the same way I did with her pussy earlier. Like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, and I want to do it right.
I trace two fingers to her entrance and push them in, up to the first knuckle.
“Holy fuck,” she hisses. “More, Jack. Please.”
I breathe loudly against her while I fill her up, giving her everything. She rocks against my fingers, her hips tilting forward to take them all the way to my knuckles. I hook them at the end, and her breath shudders out and turns into a wheeze.
“Oh, wow. I wasn’t sure about the butt stuff, but when you do it all together, it’s kind of… mind-blowing.”
My cock twitches, giving me a warning. Ten-second warning?
It had better not be, but I go for broke, eating her out while I thrust my fingers in and out of her. She bucks against me, her motions growing more and more unhinged. I curl my fingers on each thrust, hoping to goodness I’m hitting something that feels good on the inside.
“Oh… oh my god… I… I’m so close,” she whimpers. Her hands slap against the countertop while her ass slaps against my face, her hips rolling over and over again into my hand.
It happens all at once. She explodes around my fingers, her tight passage becoming even tighter and squeezing the shit out of my digits. She soaks my hand, my arm, the floor, and the counter. There’s so much wetness. So much warmth.
It soaks me.
Did she just… squirt?
“Oh shit,” she hisses, sounding half panicked. “I’m sorry, I—”
After witnessing the hottest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of being a part of, I cover up the apology I definitely don’t need by grunting twice like I don’t even know what language is before black spots dance in front of my vision, my balls clench up and try to crawl into my body, my cock kicks, and I explode all over myself. My dick is so hard that it’s pointing in an upward direction, and I get myself pretty good. I come all over my abs, my chest, and my fucking chin. As well as Carissa’s legs, the floor, and the counter in front of her.
This is the hottest, wildest, craziest, and most mortifying moment of my life.
Considering the life I’ve lived, that’s really saying something.
I hold out until she stops spasming around my fingers before I slowly retract them. We’re both breathing like we’ve just given a three-hour-long concert. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Carissa, right beside me up there, singing the songs she wrote? I know it’ll never happen, but just thinking about it gives me shivers. The image is immediately crushed by the friendships that somehow went bad. Friendships that I have no idea how to repair. The band that blames me exclusively for all the problems in their world. Probably the wider world too.
I can finally see why Carissa wouldn’t want to sing her own songs and why she wouldn’t want to sing them with me.
She wants good things for me. She’s only ever wanted to safeguard me, my feelings, my heart, my life, and my body. If there was ever an us, and I know there can’t be, in any capacity, she’d want to keep that safe as well. Private. Just for us.
There are still splotchy dots dancing in front of my eyes. I blink to clear them, but nope. The mess I just made isn’t a figment of my imagination. It isn’t dizzy dots. It’s real. There’s come… um… all over.
“I’ve never… I don’t know how you did that.” Carissa angles around, her face so sweet and hopeful, so shy and amazed. Her near-smile fades into a frown when she catches sight of my expression. “Fuck. Do you think it’s gross?”
“No! I mean, not what you did. I’m a tad embarrassed about coming buckets all over you, me, and your kitchen like a horny teenager, though.”
“Why? I’ll clean it up. I think it’s hot. I got to come, so why shouldn’t you?”
“Because I wasn’t the one getting stimulated from every angle,” I tell her.
“Spontaneous orgasms are even sexier.”
I want to be self-conscious about this, I really do. But the way she’s looking at me, like I truly am a work of art, the sexiest beast of a man she’s ever seen, and a rare and precious treasure with a wonder peen, makes it pretty hard to remain mortified and keep going on the self-recrimination front.