Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
She licks her lips, clears her throat, and starts to read again while I get to work.
“My gods, he just quoted The Great Gatsby to her,” Skyla says, then sighs when I kiss the inside of her thigh. “Beck—”
“Nope. I have this handled. You read.”
The man in the book has the woman by the throat, and it makes Skyla’s voice turn breathy. It has to be that because I don’t have a finger on her yet.
So my hand drifts up her leg, up her torso over her shirt, and I loosely hold on to her throat, and her words stumble to a halt.
“You like that, baby?”
“In theory.” She licks her lips, not looking away from the book. “But I like it better when you pull my hair.”
Fuck me.
“That’s my girl.”
She clears her throat and keeps reading, and I slide the tip of my finger through her already wet slit, making her stammer.
But she doesn’t stop.
And I reward her with a light lick over her clit.
“Oh, feck,” she whispers.
“Is that in the book?”
She shakes her head, and I pull away, making her groan in frustration.
“I warned you about what would happen if you stopped.”
She glares at me, but she begins reading again, and I return to the task at hand. Her pussy is already swollen with arousal, and I can’t resist her. Leaning in, I bury my face in her, lapping and nibbling, making her hips rotate and her voice shake.
But she doesn’t stop.
Her feet are sore, and I don’t want her digging into my back or the cushion, so I brace her legs over my arms so her feet dangle to the side. I open her wider, still kissing her core.
My girl continues to read without missing a beat but manages to get her shirt over her head and casts it aside. The clothing against my own skin is too much, and I pull back long enough to yank off my T-shirt, unfasten my jeans, and release my aching dick. I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent imprint from my zipper up my shaft since I’m so fucking hard for her.
Skyla lets out a gasp of surprise when I tug her down and flip her over so she’s bent over the seat of the sofa. I pull the tie off the end of her braid, loosening her soft red strands so I can dig my fingers in. She moans, drops her forehead to the seat, and I back away.
“Beckett!”
“I didn’t say you could stop reading, Irish.”
She whimpers but then pushes up onto her elbows and grabs the device. Her voice is smoky, full of lust and need as she reads, and I lean in to pepper kisses on her back and over her sexy freckles, making her whimper again.
But she doesn’t stop.
From behind, I press my two middle fingers into her and feel her tighten around me.
“So fucking wet,” I growl against her shoulder blade as my thumb brushes over her hard clit, making her hips buck against my hand.
And she doesn’t stop reading.
Kissing and nibbling my way up to her ear, I press my lips to the shell of that gorgeous, freckled ear and whisper, “Good girl.”
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, making me chuckle.
But she doesn’t stop.
I drag my whiskers down her spine, and her flesh erupts with goose bumps as I kiss the top of her ass, just above that little puckered muscle. I bring her right leg up, resting her knee on the cushion.
I fucking love how flexible she is.
Just as the woman in the book reaches her climax, I take my fingers from her pussy, lick them clean, and push my dick inside her. I bury myself balls deep and fist my hand in that gorgeous-as-fuck hair, tugging her head back.
“Beck.”
I pause but let her speak.
“Please.”
“Please what, Irish?”
“Please, can I stop?”
Grinning, so fucking pleased with her, I reach around to press my fingertip to her hard, pulsing clit.
“Yes, baby, you can stop now.”
“Thank Christ,” she mutters and lets her head fall, but my grip on her hair keeps her from collapsing onto the sofa. “Oh my God, I’ve never—”
She can’t complete the sentence as I push hard, over and over again, into her sweet, tight pussy.
“Never what?” I demand.
She tries to shake her head, but I hold firm.
“Never what, Irish? I won’t ask again.”
“I’ve never felt anything like this.” She groans as her contractions start, and I know she’s right there.
“Come, beautiful. Come all over me. God, you’re making such a beautiful mess. I fucking love it.”
“Beckett,” she cries out, pushing against me. “Harder.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise but don’t need her to repeat herself. My hand in her hair tightens, and I slam into her, and she yells out, falling apart.
Her pussy milks me so hard, I can’t help but follow her over, and I swear I must black out because the next thing I know, I’m folded over her back, panting, kissing her shoulders.