Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I briefly sat up.
“What are you doing?” He sounded mildly alarmed, as if worried I might be about to change the rules of the game. I was dying to touch him, but I’d offered jerking off together and wasn’t about to up the ante and risk him calling the whole thing off.
“Taking my T-shirt off so I can use it after.” Between episodes of the TV show we’d been watching, we’d switched to T-shirts and shorts, an unspoken concession that we were going to sleep at some point, and our unintentional matching styles made me smile.
“Practical.” His laugh was maybe even better than his sexy sounds.
“This is probably going to be embarrassingly quick.” Damn it. I was undoubtedly taking honesty a bit far and showing how much of a dirty-talking stud I was not. But Harley inhaled like I’d said something way sexier.
“Yeah?” The bed shifted again, a subtle motion, but he was definitely touching himself. “You all worked up?”
“I like imagining what you’re up to over there.”
“Tell me.” Harley was proving to be as bossy in bed as I’d suspected he might. Which didn’t usually work for me. I’d never sought out demanding lovers before, but the way my dick pulsed at his commanding tone said maybe I’d been missing out.
“You’re hard too.” Well, okay, that was a given. Come on, Ambrose. You’re a writer. I closed my eyes and visualized him. “And you’ve got your right hand on your cock inside your shorts.” His shorts were black, some sort of nylon running material, and I was dying to feel the fabric under my fingers. But Harley wanted talking, not touching. “Your hand isn’t moving much, not yet, but it’s there. Your other hand is on your stomach, over your shirt.”
“Good guesses, Sherlock.”
“You should take your cock out.” I wasn’t nearly as bossy as Harley, but I could make suggestions.
“Mmm. Guess I should.” He made another sexy murmur as he moved around, fabric rustling. “Don’t want to make a mess in my shorts.”
I took his moving around as permission to do the same, shoving my shorts down. “But sometimes messy is good. I like the idea of you all messy.”
“You do?” Harley sounded decidedly skeptical. “I’ve seen your house. And car.”
“Being neat has nothing to do with liking come play.” The way Harley hissed when I said the word come, made me bolder. “I’m washable. I like feeling it, tasting it, like it on my skin.”
“Jesus. Warn a guy.” He gasped like he’d almost come himself. And now I wanted that, wanted to make him come with my words and voice and maybe tempt him into actually acting out these fantasies later.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Coming on me?”
“Yeah. I like it messy.” He moaned low, the telltale noise of hand moving against flesh exciting me even further. “I’d come all over your chest or belly. Fuck, you’d look good like that.”
“I would.” I sighed happily. This was fun. “I’d let you. And then I’d want to taste it.”
“Fuck, yes. I’m tested.”
“Good to know.” I laughed because the information was so not relevant to fantasy land, but he’d shared, which had to mean he was also thinking about doing more than simply talking. “I’m tested too. And I’d love to taste you. I’d lick it off my fingers.”
“Yeah, get all of it.” His voice was even deeper now, so sexy.
My hand sped up without waiting for permission from my brain. I was so close already. My breath hitched. “I want it.”
“Don’t come yet,” he ordered sternly.
“Thought the point was a race to fall asleep?” I squeezed my dick tighter, backing off the impending orgasm, but my laugh still came out rather pained.
“You’ll sleep better if you make it last.”
“I’ve never been that great at edging myself,” I admitted, proving my point by starting to stroke again. “I always end up giving in.”
“Oh, I could make you a fan of it. Edge you for hours. You’d be begging.”
“Yeah, yeah, I would.” It didn’t take much imagination to see myself straining toward him, pleading with him to make me come, his big hand on my cock, my own hands over my head… “I want that.”
“Good. Fuck, I do love edging.” He grunted, a needy noise that had my cock pulsing. “Go fast.”
“I thought you said—”
“Don’t come. But go fast. Do what you need to get a little closer.”
The room fell quiet other than the sounds of us stroking. I was going far faster than Harley, but he’d ordered it, and hell if I wasn’t going to try to comply. My breathing became louder, unsteady and ragged, until my ass clenched, back arching off the mattress.
“There.” I managed to get the warning out.
“Stop. Take your hand off.”
“Oh fuck, you are cruel.” I did as he said, though, sagging back down against the mattress, trusting that the payoff would be worth it.