Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Yes. Fucking yes.
I eat her up, sliding my tongue through her pussy, lapping up every taste of her as my bones buzz with pleasure. She rocks against my face, seeking friction, messing up my beard in all kinds of ways, and I fucking love it.
The taste of her is all over my face.
She’s moaning and groaning, and I am too. I’m grunting as I consume my woman.
And it’s beautiful—so fucking beautiful—how she shudders out of nowhere, then says, “Oh, god, oh my god.”
Like the orgasm surprised her.
Well, it surprised me too, as she trembles, her whole body shaking as she comes on my lips faster than she’d probably expected.
My cock throbs in my jeans, aching to visit her, but I want one more taste of her sweetness. I flick my tongue against her sensitive clit, then rise, swiping my hand across my mouth.
With her eyes a little glossy, she murmurs, “That’s so sexy.”
“That?” I ask, meaning my hand across my mouth.
“Yes. But the look in your eyes too.”
I hold her gaze as I grip her jaw. “Know this—I fucking love eating you. For every single meal.”
Her hand darts out, stroking the outline of my hard-on. “I can tell,” she says in a purr.
Then a flash of nerves crosses her eyes, chased by vulnerability. “Tyler, when you said earlier I have a filthy mouth?”
“Yes?” I’m unsure where this is going.
“I want you to know—the way I talk to you…the way I touch you…”
Nerves thread in her voice, and I nod for her to keep going.
“It’s you, Tyler. It’s just you. You are the second guy I’ve been with, as you know. But when I’m with you, I feel confident. I feel free.” She pauses, like she’s thinking, really mulling over what to say. “And most of all, I feel safe.”
My heart glows. It’s like a light spreading all through my body, in every single cell. I hold her face tighter. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She grabs my hips and yanks me closer to her. “Get inside me.”
“Okay, that’s sexier.”
“Also, you know I’m on protection right?”
She told me that before, but I’m picking up what she’s putting down, and the sound I make is unholy. “Okay, that’s the sexiest.”
She pushes down my jeans and frees my aching cock, then runs her nimble hand down my shaft, sending sparks of pleasure forking through my entire body. Flames shoot through me as she strokes from base to tip and back, rubbing her thumb across the crown.
“I’m negative. What about you?”
“Me too.”
Then she guides my cock toward her. But I stop. Point to the door. Move her from the wall to the door, hike up her leg, and hitch it around my hip.
Then I notch the head of my cock against her slick wetness and slide home.
Filling her all the way.
For a moment, neither one of us moves. I just stay there, trembling. Fucking trembling—my nerves frying, my circuits overloading.
Then I whisper the words that keep echoing over and over again in my head. “It’s different like this,” I say.
She nods savagely. “Yes, it is.”
But it’s not because we’re bare.
It’s because I know—I just know.
I fuck her the way she wants. Hard and fast and full of passion. But something else entirely.
This growing, soul-deep connection between the two of us is so much more than sex dates. So much more than lessons. So much more than something undefined.
It’s becoming something incredibly clear to me.
I run a hand through her hair, look her in the eye as I drive deep, and I say, “Because I feel closer to you.”
“Me too,” she says, like her voice is breaking.
I check the clock, and we’ve still got time, so I tap the brakes. I fuck her in a slow, deep rhythm that I hope starts to tell her everything I’m feeling in my heart.
That I want to get closer.
That I want her to be mine.
That she makes my heart feel bigger, brighter, happier.
That I don’t just want a career and happy kids.
That I want more.
That I want her.
And like that, with those thoughts relentlessly pressing into my mind, she comes undone once again, and I follow her.
A little later, after we’ve cleaned up and hopped into the town car, I can’t wait any longer. I reach for her hand, clasp it in mine, and I say, “We can’t keep doing this.”
38
THIS LABEL
Sabrina
I freeze.
In the back of the town car, zigzagging toward Park Slope, passing last-minute shoppers rushing down the sidewalks, swinging red and white shopping bags, my body goes cold.
Is he really ending this while holding my hand as we pick up his kids? After he screwed me against the door? Is this the next about-face? I tug my hand away from him so I can raise all my drawbridges.
What was I thinking? Believing in…whatever this even is. That was so stupid. “What can’t we do?” I ask, my armor on.