Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
When did he see me …?
The couch pops in my head, but then I remember. I did it for him in the garage. The hose.
He reaches inside a drawer in his dresser and pulls out a little device. He hands it to me.
I hold the hot pink vibrator, the word “Vibe” written on the side. I glance at him. “This is mine.”
He took this from my bag? When? I search my brain, but I can’t remember the last time I saw it.
He whispers in my ear, “Sorry. I just didn’t want you using it with anyone else.”
I remember making a joke last spring in front of Trace’s family about how I used the vibrator after he would leave me unsatisfied. Macon was in the room when I said it. He didn’t forget. My cheeks heat, and my heart races at the same time.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the bed. I stare up at him as I twist the knob and hear the vibrator buzz to life.
His eyes swallow me whole, and I can’t see anything else but him. I barely even register crawling onto the bed, lying down on my tummy, and sliding the vibrator inside my underwear, against my clit.
His chest heaves in heavy breaths as my thighs immediately grow hot.
Raindrops beat against the windows and walls, but the only sounds filling the room are my moans as I start rubbing myself into the vibrator.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I rock my hips, pinning the toy between the bed and my body as I reach back with my hand and push the underwear below my ass. He watches me, entranced, and I thrust, grind, and slip my hand back down to keep the vibrator in place. Tingles spread low through my belly, and I feel the orgasm start to build. I moan, dropping my forehead to the bed and keeping the toy pinned on my clit.
I dream of days when he’s out working and I just can’t wait, and he comes home to catch me playing on his bed. And then suddenly, I’m all he’s thinking about as he steps in and closes the door to punish me so loud the bed breaks.
I fuck harder, rocking my hips as the heat of his eyes falls on my ass. I glance over for a split second, seeing the long ridge of his cock outlined against his sleep pants as it grows big and hard.
I slide the other hand down between my legs, holding the little vibrator with both hands. The orgasm crests, I suck in a breath, little gasps escaping as I thrust hard once. And then again. And then …
He flips me over, yanks my toy away, and I whimper as he pulls off my panties.
“Macon …” I gasp and then groan. “No.”
I didn’t come.
But in a second, he’s licking one of my nipples and sliding a finger inside of me. And then another one, stretching me and hitting deep.
I dig my nails into his bed. Yeah.
A phone rings over on the dresser. His. That’s not my ringtone. But he ignores it, and it eventually stops as his hot mouth descends over my stomach and lands between my thighs. Moving his two fingers in and out, he kisses my clit, licking it, and then kisses it again. I tremble, my thighs quivering.
“Please …” I beg.
But the phone rings again, and Macon bites my outer flesh in frustration.
I cry out, grabbing hold of his head to keep him there, but he pulls away. Charging over to his dresser, he looks at his phone and swipes, setting it back down. “Fucking Trace,” he growls, ignoring the call.
I sit up, propping my hands behind me on the blankets. “Come back to bed.”
He turns, and I see sweat glisten on his neck as he gazes at me and doesn’t blink. It only takes a moment, though, and he’s pushing his pants down his legs and fisting his cock.
My eyes flare as I watch him stroke it and walk to me like it’s a threat.
He comes down on the bed, and I fall back, grabbing his hips to guide him in between my legs.
The phone rings again.
“Goddamn that kid.” He breathes out, looking in the direction of the phone still on his dresser.
But I arch up, licking and kissing his jaw. “Don’t kill him.”
He takes my wrists and pushes me back, pinning them above my head. “I won’t, baby,” he tells me, hovering over my mouth. “He brought you home to me.”
God, yes. I love knowing Macon wants me. I like knowing that he liked what he saw months ago and wanted it.
The phone rings again, and Macon shoots off the bed, going for the phone, but everything throbs, and I need him inside of me now.
“Macon …” I whine.
And he turns back, seeing me, thighs spread, wet for him.