Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“I think so.” Beaming at him continues. “Ya know. With the right dude.”
J.T. proudly grins as if knowing I’m implying him, hums, and drags a finger across the script on my left side, reading it out loud. “Don’t ever let life pass you by.”
“Incubus lyrics,” I happily proclaim.
“Your favorite band.”
“Correct.”
“Only followed-”
“Distantly followed.”
“-by Georgian ArKtecture.”
“Correct again.”
“Then these,” his index finger trails along the script on the other side, “are also Incubus lyrics?”
I instantly nod.
“Whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll be there,” he reads in a soft tone.
“It matches Jer’s.” Our stares connect again. “He has the other half of the lyrics tattooed around his ankle.”
“Why?”
“Why there or why the tats?”
“Both.”
“He’s always wanted to be a ball player, and I always wanted to be dancer. We’ve always been huge supporters of one another, having each other’s backs, carving our way through the world together, so when he got drafted into the NBA, we got them to celebrate. He wanted me to ‘always be there with him’ no matter where I ended up.”
“Like a yin and yang thing?”
“But with Incubus.”
“Also, his favorite band?”
“Yeah,” giggles fill the room for the millionth time, “but he expects people to ignore that shit like fans were supposed to just pretend Worf’s ridges hadn’t changed in season two.”
At that, the naked man above me cockily grins. “You know that’s because someone stole the original prosthetics from the prop department, right?”
“I did know that.” My body excitedly wiggles. “And I like that you know that.”
“I like when you’re on top of me,” he salaciously flirts, frame peeling itself back onto his hunches.
“I like when I’m top of you too…” An idea quickly pops into my mind and out of my mouth. “Let’s switch places, and I’ll show you how stretchy I can really get.”
The idea of banging me is enough on its own to get J.T. hot and bothered; however, having him in a sitting position, with his back against the cushioned headboard, my hands braced on his shoulders, watching me slide down his dick into the splits has him almost coming instantly.
“ForfucksakeBeloved,” leaves him alongside a twitch of his cock. “Howinthefuck…”
My forehead falls forward to rest against his. “Practice.”
“You only practice this shit with me from now on,” J.T. growls as his fingers latch onto my sides. “Got it?”
“I like it when you’re bossy.”
“I like it when you’re coming.”
Stopping my dripping wet muscles from clenching is impossible.
“Let’s make that happen, Beloved.”
There’s barely an opportunity to brace myself for the first unrestrained thrust I’m delivered.
J.T. harshly yanks down and bucks up in tandem, taking full advantage of his easy accessibility.
The forceful impact knocks our faces into one another.
Prompts his mouth to conquer mine.
Allows juices to drip down his balls.
My pussy tauntingly squeezes his shaft, needlessly reminding it how deep he is, how deep he can be felt, how deep he can reach, all of which tips him from captain to warrior.
Kirk to Klingon.
J.T. grips my sides tight enough to bruise and slams into me even harder than before.
An attempt to pull my mouth away from his is foiled by his tongue furiously lashing against mine, whipping it for wanting to be elsewhere.
Demanding it stays exactly where it is.
Succumbing to it the same way his cock is commanding submission from my soaking wet pussy that’s ruthlessly working to survive every stroke.
Trapped moans get lapped up one right after another while his greedy groans vibrate their way through both of us.
My fingers anxiously claw at the nape of his neck for freedom.
Air.
More.
Less.
Faster.
Slower.
The revolving set of needs and wants and wants and needs ceaselessly continues throughout his unremitting pounding.
Grazes of my clit are unsteady and inconsistent, yet so deliciously executed that my toes can’t help but curl.
And my thighs can’t help but flex.
And my sopping wet muscles can’t help but tense, which pushes him to hammer harder.
Quicker.
Grunt and piston his hips to the point my body is being flailed around like a ragdoll.
Mercilessly heaved as though the end goal isn’t to get me off so much as make sure I remember no one else can ever get me off like he does.
That no one else can ever fuck me like he does.
Have me like he does.
Misplaced awe causes my chest and pussy to constrict alike, an action that encourages his shaft to noticeably swell more.
Clumsily, J.T. changes tactics.
Stops bouncing and begins grinding.
Pulling me forward.
Caressing my clit with his cock.
He drops one hand to my ass and skates a single digit along my crack to roughly bump the tip of it against my back hole.
Roll it around.
Nudge.
Irrefutably remind me that every inch of my body deserves pleasure.
Can be pleasured.
His.
Without warning, J.T.’s mouth slides off mine to praise, “I love when you come on my cock, Beloved.”
The lecherous words make me wetter.
More eager.
“I love when you come so hard your whole-body shakes.” He flexes his finger and my ass along with my pussy tighten. “I love when you scream my name while you do it.”