Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
The air conditioner kicks on and it forces the bathroom door to crack open a little, and a small curl of steam escapes the room. I peer inside the bathroom, through the crack, transfixed by the slivers I get of Blake standing there, completely naked, using a towel to dry off his hair.
He doesn’t notice me watching him, but I sure as hell notice the way his muscular body shifts with his movements. I swear, the man has twelve-pack abs, and every single one of them stretches and flexes as he dries his hair.
Surprising myself, I fixate next on the way his cock hangs between his thighs. I’ve never craved to put my mouth on a man or understood the fascination with men in gray sweatpants. A utility of function, sure. But something to be looked at? I never got the memo. But right now, my body is rewriting its own manual.
My nipples are hard beneath my tank top, and my tongue sneaks out to lick against my lips. My center aches and pulls, willing me to fill it promptly, and my heart pounds at one and a half times its normal rate.
Cocks in general may not affect me, but Blake’s certainly does. Wrapping my mouth around him for the first time the other night is a core memory, cemented by the fact that my taste buds can vividly remember every detail of his taste and texture at a simple thought’s whim.
Blake hums softly to himself, completely unaware of my gawking and the dirty path my mind has taken, and for some reason, that makes the mouthwatering need for another taste of him even stronger. Before I know it, I’m getting off his bed and walking into the bathroom.
The air is warmer in here, still humid from his shower, and the mirror is fogged at the edges. Blake’s back is to me, but when his eyes catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, he freezes—and then his entire presence seems to radiate pure light. His smile is bright, his mood welcoming—he doesn’t make me doubt myself for even a moment.
“Need something, babe?” he asks, turning around to face me.
But I don’t say anything. I can’t. My eyes are focused between his thighs again, and before I can second-guess it, I step forward and get on my knees in front of him. I look up at his surprised face beneath my lashes and reach out to touch his now-hardening cock.
“Lex,” he whispers my name, his voice a mix of awe and growing need. I don’t squander it. I lean forward and swirl my tongue around the tip, trialing a taste. It’s fresh and manly and personal—it makes me feel good.
When I suck him into my mouth, his gasp of surprise is deep and raspy, just like it was the very first time I did this, and it only emboldens me further.
I feel confident and powerful as I move my mouth up and down his length. And I savor the way he grows completely hard against my tongue, letting myself relish the way he feels like silk and stone against my lips.
When I take him deeper, letting the tip of him tap against the back of my throat, a guttural groan escapes his throat that causes goose bumps to roll up my spine and a throbbing ache to form between my thighs.
“Fuck, Lexi. You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”
He might think he’s the only one who is being affected right now, but the truth is, I feel like I’m the one falling apart. I don’t think I’ve ever let myself be this vulnerable with another person in my life. I feel bare and uninhibited and safe.
So incredibly safe.
It’s a far cry from the woman who wouldn’t give him her phone number, and it’s all thanks to him. His open and honest and self-sacrificing pursuit has completely robbed me of my shields, and when I’m alone with him, I feel no need to put them back up.
And right now, all I really want to do is make him feel good.
So, I do.
I feel his body tense beneath my fingertips, and instead of pulling back like I did the first time, my desperation to taste all of him overcomes me. I let him come inside my mouth, and astonishingly, it feels almost as good as the orgasms he’s given me so many times with his mouth and lips and tongue and fingers.
The logical part of my brain wants to scrutinize every single second of the intimate interaction, but when Blake lifts me off the floor and carries me to his bed, I can’t focus on anything besides the fact that he’s smiling down at me as he removes my clothes.
“Now, it’s my turn,” he says, waggling his brows at me as he slides my panties down my thighs.