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)
“Touch somewhere else.” His voice was so darn seductive when he got all commanding. “Tell me what else amps you up.”
“Neck.” I shuddered merely from running my thumb down the tense cords of my neck. “I like touching my neck. And stomach. Oh.” I gasped as I moved my touch lower, rediscovering erogenous zones I’d forgotten I had. “Inside of my thighs.”
“Damn. You’re fun.” Chuckling, he moved his legs restlessly. “See? Waiting is good.”
“Says you. I’m dying.” Every time he shifted, my whole body tensed, wishing he’d touch me. And wishing we had a light on so I could see him properly.
“Poor baby.” He made a clucking noise but didn’t sound in the least sympathetic.
“How about you?” I asked. I wanted a whole damn book on his kinks and likes. “What does it for you?”
“Sounds. Sometimes I listen to porn with my eyes closed, pretend I’m in the same room.”
“Mmm.” I shuddered, both hands on my stomach. I wanted to grip my cock so badly, but he hadn’t said I could, so I tried to hold out longer. “What about touching? Where’s your other hand now?”
“Thought you had such a great power of imagination.”
I’d never laughed this much during a sex act before. I loved it. I wanted this to go on all night, even if that meant being bleary and sleep-deprived come morning. “Indulge me.”
“I have hella sensitive nipples. Hate the cold, but I like to play with them. Usually tweak one while I jack.”
“Oh. That’s…” I moaned, dangerously close to coming simply from the images floating through my brain. My cock pulsed against my belly, impossibly harder now, the tip leaving a damp streak behind.
“Not yet.”
“You’re the one painting dirty pictures in my mind.”
“Good.” His breathing shifted. God, I hoped he was getting there, especially when he added, “You can touch your cock now.”
I groaned, way less restrained now, noises louder, movements against the bed more erratic. My cock felt absolutely amazing in my hand after trying not to touch it. Having permission was heady, a turn-on all its own. I couldn’t seem to hold back the moans with each slow stroke.
“That’s right,” Harley encouraged. He’d moved again, close enough I could almost feel the brush of his arm as he touched himself. “Let me hear you get nice and close.”
Testing, I stretched one leg, brushing his calf with my foot, like I had at the café, but far more electric here in the dark. He hissed but didn’t pull away, tangling his foot with mine. Only that one point of contact and my own hand on my cock, and I was dangerously close to going over the edge.
“Please.” I pressed my shoulders hard into the mattress, body surging toward my hand.
“There we go. There’s my favorite word. Good boy.” His praise washed over me like the perfect temperature of a steamy shower. Bliss. I was forty-one years old, and the word boy shouldn’t have turned me on so much. But coming from his lips, it totally did. I liked being good for him, liked knowing I was pleasing him.
“Please. I’m close.” My begging took on a more desperate tone. Now that I knew he liked it, the words tumbled freely. ”Please. Please, let me come.”
“That’s right. Ask me.”
“Please, may I come? Now? Please?” I was so close I had to remove my hand entirely, or I was going to come simply from the sound of my own pleading.
“You ask so pretty.” His voice had a waver like he too struggled for control. “Do it. But let me hear you.”
“Oh yes. Thank you. Fuck.” I cursed as more barely coherent babble sprang from my lips as my hand sped up. Having permission, I didn’t hold back, stroking hard and fast, squeezing near the top the way I liked, my other hand rubbing my neck. “Harley. Please. Here it…comes.”
I came so hard the room seemed briefly illuminated, white light behind my eyelids, hot, thick pleasure spreading throughout my body. At the last second, I grabbed my T-shirt, and good thing because I shot so hard that I surely would have hit the headboard otherwise. I moaned and shuddered, loving how my moans seemed to spur him on too.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re sexy.” His groans were lower now, more uneven. I tapped his foot again with mine, fuzzy calves rubbing together, causing little aftershocks for me and more moans from Harley. “Yeah, do that.”
Emboldened, I scooted closer, letting our shoulders touch, pressing against the length of his body. “Come on, Harley. Wanna hear you go.”
“Fuck.” His voice was strained and tension rolled off his big body in waves, tighter and tighter until I held my breath. I exhaled right along with him as he grunted and convulsed. “Coming.”
“Oh my fucking God.” I was breathing even harder than him as we lay there recovering. I moved to roll away, but he surprised the hell out of me by tossing an arm around me.