Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Drake moves with speed, leaning over, his deliciously hard dick pressing into my hip as he pulls open the drawer so he can retrieve the small box of condoms I’d bought at the end of last year when I’d decided to have a Hot Girl Semester and was going to be more adventurous and sow my wild oats with more people.
That never happened.
But it’s happening now.
Just…not with more people.
With one.
Only one.
Only Drake.
He tears into the wrapper, setting it on the table and not the floor, going to work rolling it on. I watch, transfixed at the motion, watching his large hands—his lithe fingers. They’re calloused and firm, and I want them back on my body, preferably my backside. I want him pulling me into him so he’s deeper.
Patience, Daisy…
Patience be damned; I want to get fucked.
I’ve been good for so long.
Excited, I spread my legs as he settles back between them, his large body is warm and solid above me. His mouth? Back on mine.
The moment is electric. Unplanned and perfect.
Like his body.
His ass, especially, I could eat off it.
“I want you to fuck me so bad,” I breathe the confession against his mouth; admit it without flinching, the honest words making his eyes go wide.
“That’s good news ’cause I want to fuck you so bad.”
That voice.
That accent.
I want him so much.
He has become a physical ache. A burning desire that started consuming me the second he first said my name. I want to feel his hands on me, his lips on mine, his body pressing into mine. It’s almost painful, this need.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, moving my hips to urge him on.
“I’m just lookin’. I want to remember this moment.”
“Am I going somewhere?” I tease, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair—but still impatient.
“I’ve never had sex with a girlfriend.” He sounds bashful. “This has gotta be a core memory, right?”
A core memory.
Something Stella is always saying when she gathers a memory for her bank—when she can’t take a photo of it.
I’d never expect a guy like Drake to say something sentimental; not in the heat of the moment.
I lean up to kiss him on the mouth, pulling him down to me. I run my hands over his back, down the middle of his spine, my fingers pressing along his vertebra.
He’s like a Greek statue come to life, and he’s in my bed.
His ass, too.
I grip it, squeezing. “Mmm. Mama like.”
That does the trick.
“You like that?” He rocks over me, positioning himself over my pussy, ready to enter.
“Yes.” Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?
He presses forward, the tip entering.
Just the tip.
Little by little.
Inch by inch.
It’s driving me nuts, this wait.
He thrusts all the way inside. Finally.
He finally buries himself inside me, his thick, hard dick filling me with so much more than his heat. He fills me with…
With…
Happiness.
Can dicks do that?
Our kisses deepen. Become more intense, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm.
When Drake’s hits just the right spot, I let out a soft moan into his mouth. I knew I was close, so close to the edge, tension leaving my body.
His pelvis rotates. Hips thrust.
We learn each other’s rhythms, back and forth—up and down—back and forth. Again and again…
And again.
You know in the movies, when two people are having sex, and they lock eyes? I never thought that happened in real life. I always thought it was cheesy, and if it happened to me, I would look away and break the contact.
But I don’t.
Drake’s eyes are hooded, staring into mine.
It’s the strangest feeling…
Lips parted.
Hair falling into his forehead.
I thought our first time would be a major fuck-fest, fast and hard and done with as soon as it started, but I was wrong. Is he making love to me?
Feels like it.
Looks like it.
Is that what this is?
Drake
Do I half expect to be kicked out when we’re done having sex?
Yes.
Why?
Daisy seems like the type who sleeps in the center of her bed, hogging all the covers and blankets. So she surprises me by snuggling up after we wash up and I crawl onto the bed, under the covers.
I collapse, still completely naked, pulling the bedspread up to my chest.
Her head rests there.
“Your pecs don’t make a good pillow.” She presses a finger into my flesh.
“It doesn’t?” This is news to me.
“No, it’s too hard. Is it necessary to work out so much? I’d like a place to rest my head.”
“Hey,” I tell her. “I pressed almost four hundred pounds eight times yesterday.”
I feel her rolling her eyes against my chest. “Are you bragging?”
“Yes.”
Daisy laughs and squeezes my arm. “You’re so strong.”
Her yawn makes me yawn, too. “We should sleep, eh?”
“Yeah, probably.”
I reach for the light, flipping the switch off.
“Hey, Drake?” her voice asks in the dark.
“Hmm?”
“Are you planning on waking me up in the middle of the night for round two?”