Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Let me come,” I say in a clearer voice, the last word ending with a moan.
“Now, beg me to make this beautiful cock weep.” He slides his dick against mine and glides his length up and down. We’re almost the same length, but he’s bigger in girth with larger angry veins lining his dick.
My mouth waters at the memory of him inside it, against my tongue and slamming into the back of my throat.
And he’s still rubbing us together, firmly, with a rhythmic friction that drives me insane.
No, it’s the drugs, actually.
That’s what’s making me writhe against the pillow, thrusting up and down against another fucking cock.
Then it stops—the rubbing, and the mind-blowing pleasure—because he wraps both his hands around our cocks, bringing the friction to a halt.
“This motherfucking…” I glare at him.
He only smiles, the motion never reaching his empty eyes. Though they’re not so empty anymore. An unfamiliar dark and entirely vicious emotion shines through the lustful haze.
“I said. Beg.”
My breaths leave in long, fractured spurts. I’d do anything to come right now. I’m de facto debasing myself to the subhuman hormonal fools I look down upon.
“Please,” I let the word fall in a whisper.
“Please what?”
“Fuck…just—” I swallow, breathing deeply. “Please let me come.”
“Say it again.” He jerks us up and down roughly, adding painful friction, and a renewed jolt rushes through me.
It feels so good.
Why does it feel good?
Kayden rubbing our cocks together in that firm rhythm shouldn’t feel like it’s the best erotic touch I’ve ever had.
I don’t even like jerking off, like it’s really hard for me to reach orgasm with handjobs, or oral in general, which is why I rarely masturbate.
And yet, right now, his large, rough hand and throbbing veiny cock are sliding me to an unfamiliar edge.
My senses are full of him, the woodsy smell, the striking eyes, the menacing snake. Our scents mixing into a hazy erotic fog.
All male.
Completely fucking male.
No flowery perfume, no soft touch, and no tits.
Just hard muscles and powerful, painful, and entirely controlled touches.
That should turn me off, but I’m grinding into him, groaning as he uses our precum to lube us up.
“I said.” He slows his pace. “Say it again.”
“Please.” My voice is so hoarse, I barely recognize it, but I don’t care. If he stops again, I might die of frustration.
My mind is in a blissful blur as I thrust into his hand.
He rubs us together harder, faster, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Mmm…your cock feels so good. You’re leaking all over me.”
“Fuck…fuck…I’m…I’m…”
“That’s it. Fall into it. Feel what you do to me, baby.”
“Fuck…oh God…please…I’m close…please…”
“So impatient. So fucking beautiful.” He groans, his voice dripping with lust as he squeezes us with that sinfully good roughness. “Come with me, baby.”
I don’t know if it’s his words or the way he touches me, or all the above, but I can’t hold it in.
I wish I could.
If I weren’t on the drugs, I would’ve held out better and convinced myself I was disgusted, appalled, and downright creeped out.
I would’ve put up a fight.
That’s what I tell myself as I come the hardest I ever have. Against his dick. Spurts of my cum shoot all over the place, and he joins with a guttural groan.
Our cum mixes, covering his hands, and splashing my abs and his thighs.
I blink hard, but my head is complete mush.
But I still search my memories for a better orgasm. I do, thinking it’s imperative to find that and my sanity, but I come up empty.
I’m deeply disturbed and fascinated that this is the best orgasm I’ve had in my almost twenty-two years of life.
“What a mess. Always a fucking mess, little monster,” he muses, his voice rougher, deeper, and, if I were into men—which I’m not—attractive.
And for some reason, some fucked reason also called drugs, I can’t stop coming, staring at him as he continues jerking up, using the cum as lube.
It’s gross.
I tell myself that over and over, but then he does something.
The motherfucker leans down and wraps his mouth around my crown, sucking me dry of cum. The feel of his hot, wet mouth makes me moan out loud. “Fuuuuck…goddamn it…fucking hell…”
I come more in his mouth, unable to stop myself, because why the fuck does it feel good?
I never think about mouths when I’m being blown. So why…?
My question remains hanging in the air as he lifts his head and sucks cum off his hand, making a show of licking and letting me watch.
Our cum.
His and mine.
I swear to fucking God, I’m castrating my cock because even spent, the motherfucker twitches to life at the view.
My sore nipples and bitten chest hurt when he crawls over my body, but I don’t have the capacity to focus on that when he slides one cum-filled hand into my hair, then grabs my jaw with the other one.