Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Finish himself off? Oh lord.
“I can’t let you do that—it wouldn’t be fair.”
His beautiful mouth is amused. “No. It really wouldn’t be.”
“I’ve never really—I mean, I don’t want you to finish yourself off.” How embarrassing. “I want to do it for you. I want…” A lump forms in my throat, but I’m determined to say the words. I’m mature enough to offer him a blow job, can at least freaking say the words. “Do you want…”
Ugh.
“Yes, Scarlett, I want you to suck my dick.” He says it softly but oh my god, the words!
He’s standing next to the bathroom door, hand still on his erection, leisurely stroking it through his boxer briefs.
“Don’t judge me, okay? I’ve never done it before.”
“It’s pretty easy,” he says slowly, hands up in surrender. “All you have to do…is put…your mouth…on my cock…and suck.” He makes himself moan. “You can’t screw it up.”
I swallow my nerves, crooking my finger. “Then come back to bed.”
Those five words are an aphrodisiac, ones he wants so badly.
I can see that he’s exercising all his self-control by not bounding over. I can tell by the way his body inches toward me, halted, taking its time, approaching unhurriedly.
Still, he’s desperate for me to blow him.
“You sure?”
I almost roll my eyes—he’s being coy, and we both know it. He’s positively vibrating from excitement, eyes slightly wild. Pupils dilated, nostrils flaring.
“Yes. Come here.”
He does, standing at the foot of the bed so I have to crawl to him on my knees until I’m face to face with his erection, my greedy palms connecting with his sinewy skin. Touching. Caressing.
Stroking.
Lovingly trail one of my hot fingers down his abs, following the dusky hairs of his happy trail.
Half-hooded eyes watch, transfixed, while I fondle him through his underwear, lids getting droopy. Chest heaving, hands hanging and clenched at his sides.
He’s aroused, painfully so, if his thick dick is any indication. I can see every part of it outlined inside his briefs—the head, the thick shaft.
I swear I can see it throbbing, but maybe that’s just my imagination.
I want to see it.
Tugging the elastic band circling his waist, I drag his boxers down, down, careful not to catch them on the head of his dick, anticipation needling every nerve cell in my body. My body hums with energy.
Both of us are breathing hard.
Sterling is thick, hard, and throbbing.
My hand grips it, testing its girth.
My legs climb off the bed so I can turn him, pushing him onto the mattress so I can get down on my knees on the carpet in front of him.
“God, Scarlett,” he chokes out, voice strangled before I even have my mouth on him, the simple sight of me kneeling driving him to distraction.
Still, he grabs a fistful of my hair, brushing my long strands aside so he can watch me. I read in a magazine once that guys love the sight of themselves getting head, and Sterling is no exception.
His eyes close when my mouth closes over him. His head bobs back like it’s on a string when I suck it for the first several seconds—just the tip.
“Fuck…oh fuck.”
The vulgar language spurs me on, and I take him deeper, a novice, but enthusiastic. I mean—his dick is in my mouth, how bad could I be at giving him a blowie? He already seems to be enjoying it, and based on his begging, this won’t take long.
“Oh god, yeah, Scarlett, suck it,” he pleads.
And he is begging.
Begging me.
Me, the girl they called Cock Blocker the night he kicked me out of the baseball house. Me, the girl he fell in love with when we weren’t even trying to get along.
I lift my head, removing my mouth. “Would you rather…”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He moans. “I s-swear to f-fucking god, Scarlett…”
“Would you rather come in my mouth or in my hand?”
“C-Come in your mouth—Jesus, please keep sucking,” he implores frantically, glassy eyed and gorgeous. “I want to come in your mouth.”
So he does.
He comes and groans and makes so much damn noise I have to shush him before someone calls customer relations to complain, and I’ve never felt more powerful.
Later, when we’re lying side by side in bed, spent and wrapped in each other’s arms, I gather one more shred of courage.
“I’m going to assume you brought protection? Because I’m not on any form of birth control.”
I definitely want to have sex with him this weekend.
It’s happening.
His brows go up as his hand strokes my hair. Kisses my temple. “Yeah, I took care of it, all kinds of optimistic. Since I met you, I’ve only ever come inside my pants or your mouth.” He laughs. “No offense, but I’m looking forward to coming inside a condom instead.”
Never has a single soul made me blush this much. My body is in a state of burgundy. My toes actually curl from the thrill, and will I ever go back to my normal shade of pale?