Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
My mind is playing through a million scenarios, none of which are favorable.
“It’s complicated, which is why-”
“How’d you know I’d find you?” I take a few steps closer, immediately changing the subject. I can’t risk his words. I’m not ready.
He exhales loudly, almost sadly.
“You seem to always have a way of finding me.”
I struggle with that truth, not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.
“You consume me.” It’s a bold admission on my end, but at least it’s honest.
He sighs again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He still hasn’t turned around, and I’m dying to see his face.
“It is when it’s not requited.” It comes out softly, tragically.
“Like hell it isn’t,” he growls angrily, finally turning his head so I can see him. “Not requited?”
He speaks with such distaste, questioning my words. “You have a birthmark on your right arm, on the underside, just above your wrist,” he swallows. “When the year started, you had a small amount of freckles on your face, just above your cheeks on both sides,” he chuckles, remembering. “They have since disappeared, but I suspect when it warms they’ll return.” His eyes smolder. “You also love when I talk dirty. Your pussy contracts with every foul word I say, and every time you’re about to come, you hold onto me for dear life, your fingers grabbing onto my hair mostly. That’s your favorite place. There’s this certain type of squeeze you do. It’s always the same,” he laughs again. “And on your right side, just below your ribs, you have the faintest of scars.”
“From when I had chicken pox as a kid,” I interrupt him, my voice faint, bewildered. “There’s also one-”
“On the side of your upper right thigh.” He finishes my sentence, raising his eyebrow, challenging me. “Like hell I’m not consumed,” he shakes his head, turning back to face the piano again. He begins another song, this one not so loud as he continues to whisper. “I notice every little thing about you.”
I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest as he leans his body back into me.
“I’m obsessed,” he looks up before closing his eyes.
I kiss his neck as I move my hands down to his stomach, caressing, taking every part of him in. His cock is so big right now that it extends down his leg, firm and stiff between his thigh and the fabric of his pants. I rub my palm up and down it, savoring each time he twitches against my touch.
“Pull on it. Hard.” He demands, sliding forward on the piano bench and allowing me to straddle him from behind.
He helps me set him free, feeling heavy in my hands.
I start to jerk him, using both hands, driving down hard and tugging on each up stroke, in an almost polishing motion.
“Oh that’s so good,” he moans. “I fucking love how you pump me.”
His hips thrust to meet my force as a squirt of pre-come spews out. I rub both my thumbs over his straining head, playing with the liquid.
“That’s it, around the tip… like that,” his voice is like silk, his breathing becoming labored as he shoves himself into my hands, begging for me to move over his entire length again.
I keep one hand on his length, picking up speed, as the other moves to his balls, squeezing and rolling them. They suddenly tighten and I know he can’t hold back for much longer.
In this very moment, as I pump him with one hand and fondle his balls with the other, I feel like I own him. Like he’s coming apart just for me, silently telling me he’s mine.
It’s the best feeling in the world.
“You’re about to come for me aren’t you?” I bite down on his ear before giving it a lick.
“So hard,” he answers, shaking in my arms.
He starts to spasms as his hips buck, shoving forward, a steady stream of come gushing onto the piano.
“Shit, Luci, I can’t stop!” He continues to rock into my hands, groaning, his chest moving rapidly, the liquid still flooding out of him.
“That’s it,” I whisper in his ear. “Get it all out.”
I continue to massage him lightly, willing the come out of him. His chest rises and falls as he grabs my legs and twists me around so I’m straddling him, face to face. I’m so wet and turned on that I can’t help grinding myself into his still throbbing cock, his leftover come staining the crotch of my leggings.
He leans back and I hear tissues being pulled out of a box.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I comply, and he spreads his legs so I fall between them as he wraps his arms around me. He’s everywhere, enveloping me. I rest myself against him, watching as he wipes down the piano keys before starting to play again, the flap of his pants still wide open with his penis resting against my back.