Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
I rest my back against the headboard, prop one knee up, and before I know it, my hand is wrapped around my dick. Precum drips from the tip, sliding down, and I use it to guide my path. My eyes close, and my chest rises and falls with each powerful breath. I’m already imagining the pretty girl next door.
She’s here, completely bare to me, and she’s crawling between my spread legs. Her hands clutch the top of my thighs, nails digging into my skin in a burn-you-up kind of way.
“Goddamn.” My voice goes hoarse when I imagine her long hair down, breasts swaying, nipples tightened, and eyes full of heat and desire. My fist tightens around my length, staving off the need to explode before I even get started.
“Just like that, sweetheart. Suck me deep.” Her tongue darts out, tracing the tip for the barest of moments before her mouth engulfs it. The suction she uses has my head tipping back, my eyes closing, and my muscles tightening. Christ, it’s like she’s right here with me, as if it’s not my hand but hers holding my cock as she bobs up and down, dragging her bottom teeth along the underside, causing a shiver to slide up my spine. I pick up my pace, imagining the beautiful woman with long hair, eyes that are deep and soulful, and a body that makes me salivate anytime she’s near. Getting to know her is my top fucking priority.
“Fuck.” I grunt with each pump of my fist, my hips arching up to the sensation, imagining my cock hitting the back of her throat. She chokes and backs away, but that does nothing to stop my orgasm. “Christ.” My voice echoes in the room. There’s no stopping. I’m too close. This feels too damn good, and I’ve held off long enough.
“Goddamn, sweetheart.” I lose control and move faster, twisting my wrist with each downward motion, and when my body locks up, balls drawing tight, in my mind, she’s sucking me hard and deep, gripping my thighs. Each swallow has her making a choking noise that I can feel. And when she cups my balls, I’m fucking done. I unwrap my hand from my cock. It flexes on its own with each thick rope of cum that coats my abdomen. And while the woman next door isn’t in the room with me, in my head, she is, and she’s swallowing every last drop.
My energy should be zapped. I should be worn the hell out, and my cock shouldn’t still be hard and aching. Yet it is, and the minute I can find the gumption to get my ass off the bed, I’ll be taking this into the shower. I might as well kill two birds with one stone—get myself off again and clean myself up at the same time.
6
Kara
Three nights in a row without being woken up by a blaring television has been utterly amazing. Last night was something else, getting to hear the hot guy next door moan, and there’s nothing hotter than hearing a man moan. Imagining what he was doing behind the shared wall made me pull my toy back out to use yet again. At the rate I’m going, it’ll be worn out, and I’ll run out of batteries. Either that, or my fingers will become prunes.
It’s probably why, even though it’s Monday, I should be well on my way to work by now. In fact, my coffee is in hand, my bag is on my shoulder, and a note that I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time on this morning obsessing over is in my hand.
That’s probably because I haven’t seen the mystery man since our run-in on Saturday. Then again, between that night and last night, I heard more than I saw, which leads me to believe he wanted me to know what he was doing. Even if seeing him in the flesh didn’t happen. It could have been our conflicting schedules, with me going to my parents’ house yesterday for dinner with Colt, Sable, and Nellie. And him, well, he could very well be working or doing whatever it is he does, which is probably why I’m second-guessing taping this letter on his door.
“Man up, Kara. It’s just a note, not a marriage proposal.” Besides, it’s not like he didn’t start this in the first place. With one last pep talk to myself, I walk toward the door, open it, and then remember. “Tape. You need tape.” I backtrack and fold the note in half; I don’t want anyone who could pass by to see what I’ve written him.
God, I can just imagine what others would think if they got a hold of what I’ve written. I pull myself together and take a deep breath. Now taken the weekend away from work and stretched my leg in the pool, my limp isn’t as predominant today. The ache isn’t bothering me, and while I can’t run marathons, I can take the stairs and walk at a normal pace without feeling like I need a break.