Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m going wild for you.”
“No need to apologize. I like seeing you like this, like knowing it’s me you’re dying for.”
I want him all to myself, want to claim him, want to be able to tell everyone that Briar is my boyfriend.
I suck him again, working a finger into the warmth of his tight hole. I fuck him with one finger, then two, working him open for me, enjoying his length on my tongue, my desire ramping up each time he makes a hungry, needy sound for me. His ass hugs my fingers like a glove, molding around my digits. When I get three fingers inside him, he’s moaning, hands gripping the blanket, eyes closed as he writhes beneath me.
“Fuck me. Please, Dawson. Fuck me.”
My dick twitches, dying to do exactly that.
13
BRIAR
When Dawson removes his fingers, I whimper from the loss. I can’t believe this is happening, and with a guy who feels like a dream come true. I’m so hard for him, want him so bad, I can’t wait any longer. I sit up and reach for the condom.
“Someone’s eager.”
“Is it that obvious?” I smirk, making quick work of tearing the wrapper open. Besides, I want the opportunity to touch him as well, so I grip his hot, hard erection and stroke him from root to tip, admiring the thickness and marveling at the pearls of precome at the head.
Dawson moans. “You gotta stop, or I’m gonna come.”
I reluctantly loosen my grip. “Fine, but next time I want free rein to touch you.”
“How the hell can I turn that down?”
I gently bat his hand away so I can roll the condom down his shaft. He watches with barely restrained hunger as I flip open the lube and generously slather it on his cock. Then I sit back, suddenly unsure. “How do you want me?”
“Is like this okay?” His fingers trail along my jaw. “So I can kiss you?”
“I can’t think of anything better,” I sigh. “Except you fucking me while you do it.”
Lying back down, I lift my knees to my shoulders, exposing myself to him. His gaze is filled with wonder again, like he needs to pinch himself, exactly how I’ve felt this entire trip. He hovers over me, and just as our lips meet, he prods his dick against my hole. He absorbs my groan as he trembles and pushes inside.
“Ah, fuck.” Dawson pulls back to look down at the place where our bodies meet. “You’re so tight.”
“Please,” I gasp, swaying my hips and forcing more of his shaft inside me. “Need you. Need more.”
Once seated all the way inside, he starts thrusting. My eyes roll back as I bask in the sensation of him filling me so thoroughly.
“I’m not gonna last this first time with you. It’s too fucking perfect,” he murmurs.
His words make me shiver. “Definitely perfect.” I grab my dick and stroke, an electric current traveling up my spine. Our eyes meet and hold as he rocks forward and drives inside me, watching my every breath and expression. It’s intimate, and I feel cared for the way I’ve always wanted. It’s almost too much but also exactly enough as a wave of bliss washes over me. I screw my eyes shut and break apart beneath him.
I’m lost somewhere in the clouds when I feel him stiffen and unload inside me. The sound in the room blots out as blood rushes in my ears, and then he’s collapsing on top of me, and we’re rolling to our side. “Fuck, so good,” Dawson whispers, feathering kisses on my lips and cheek and jaw as I pull him tighter and revel in the connection. How can this guy feel so perfect? Is it too good to be true?
Once our breaths even out, he throws out the condom and I use the box of tissues from my nightstand to clean us up. He smiles groggily as he pulls my back to his chest, and it only takes a couple of minutes before he’s snoring softly.
As gratifying as it feels being in his arms, I can’t get to sleep, so I carefully roll out of bed and pad downstairs for water.
I’m at the faucet when I hear familiar shuffling and turn to see my dad. “Having trouble sleeping?” I ask him.
He adjusts his robe. “I can ask you the same question.”
“Yeah, suppose so.” I take a sip from my glass. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
He heads toward the refrigerator. “Did you have a good night?”
“A perfect night,” I practically purr, unable to help myself.
Dad glances at me over the open door. “Glad to hear it. Dawson is a good guy, and he seems to treat you right. That’s all we ever wanted for you.”
I sink down in a chair. “Yeah, I know.”
Logically, I do. But I still made up a scenario and have been deceiving them all week because I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth.