Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“No.”
“And you’re already wet.”
“Yes.”
Normally, I prided myself on my patience and attentiveness during foreplay, but tonight I didn’t have it in me to wait. I needed to get inside her. I needed to have her that close. I needed to feel like she was mine.
I spun her around, putting her back against the door, then quickly unbuckled my belt, undid my pants, and shoved them down just enough. After hoisting her up, I lowered her onto my cock, my hands gripping her ass. She was warm and soft and snug and clinging to me, crying out with every thrust, her back thumping loudly against the wood.
Perilously close to coming, I changed the angle so the base of my cock rubbed her clit the way she liked. It ratcheted me up even higher to realize I knew the way she liked to be touched. The way she liked to be kissed. The way she liked to be fucked.
Her little noises grew louder and more frantic. Her pussy grew wetter, slick with heat and friction. Then thank fuck, she cried out as her climax crashed through her and I let go of mine, my legs going stiff, sweat dripping down my spine beneath my suit, my cock surging inside her.
When I could control my muscles again, I gently set her on her feet and extracted myself. Leaning forward, my forearms on either side of her head against the door, I pressed my mouth to her forehead, her cheek, her jaw. She lifted her face and I kissed her lips.
“I’ll be right back,” she said quietly.
I nodded, giving her space to open the door. My heart was having a hard time slowing down.
While she was gone, I shed my jacket, slipped the tie from my collar, and peeled off my damp dress shirt. After hanging up the components of my suit, I stripped off the rest of my clothes.
She entered the room again, switched on the light, and shut the door. “Help me get this dress off?” Turning around, she lifted her thick red hair, and I worked the knot from the halter ties. Then I pressed my nose to the back of her neck and inhaled her scent. She must have washed her makeup off, because I could smell her facial cleanser and fancy moisturizer too.
“Can you bottle this please?” I asked, sliding my hands around her waist and holding her close.
She giggled. “Bottle what?”
“You.” Us, I almost said, but caught myself. There wasn’t an us, not an us that could be bottled. Kept. Saved. The thought caused a strange ache in my chest and I let her go. “Is there a zipper or anything?”
“I’ve got it. It’s on the side.”
I watched her undress, red hair swinging loose around her sun-kissed shoulders, breasts pale, nipples pink and tempting, tan line from her bikini bottom crossing her abdomen. I wanted to trace it with my tongue.
After hanging up her dress, she climbed onto the mattress, slipped beneath the sheets, and gave me an expectant look. “Are you coming to bed?”
“In a minute.” I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, and when I was done, I surveyed all the girly shit on the sink. Potions and lotions and jars and tubes and compacts and brushes. It looked like five girls lived here, not just one. Would this be what it was like to live with a wife? And what if you had daughters? Would your bathroom look like the cosmetics aisle of the drugstore exploded inside it all the time?
Spotting her perfume, I picked it up and sniffed it. My pulse quickened, like my body thought she was near. I set the bottle back on the vanity and went to find the real thing.
The next day, I woke up first and used the bathroom. When I returned to the bedroom, it struck me how beautiful Kelly looked, lying there on her back, one arm arcing gracefully over her head, white sheet twisted at her waist, her copper hair flowing over the pillow.
The Sunday morning light was soft and pink, filtered through the thin shade covering the window above our heads. Her skin glowed gently. A few determined sunbeams snuck beneath the bottom of the shade, illuminating the freckles on her nose, and her lashes fanned like feathers over her cheeks.
She breathed in, her lungs expanding, and my eyes traveled down her body, over the feminine curves of her breasts, the softness of her middle. A breeze moved the shade, causing it to click against the sill.
She opened her eyes and saw me standing there. Her lips curved into a smile. Her voice was lazy. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking about how beautiful you look. I wish I could photograph you.”
“So do it. You’ve got your camera.”
I swallowed. “You want me to?”
“Sure.” Her eyes closed again.