Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Mmm,” Renzo groaned when I started to come back down, clinging to him, my body trembling. “I need to taste you,” he said, his fingers drifted up and down my spine. “Do you want that?”
I wanted everything.
“Yes,” I whispered against his neck.
Then he was moving, rolling me onto my back, coming over me.
There was no time to feel any kind of uncertainty build as his lips were between my breasts, then moving downward.
Over my belly.
Tracing the waistband of my shorts.
He sat back on his heels, settling my feet on his bare thighs, then reaching past to grab the waistbands of my shorts and panties, waiting for me to press up, so he could slide them over my ass.
He pushed my knees to my chest to continue drawing them down, then off, tossing them to the side before grabbing my knees, and spreading me wide on the mattress.
“So wet for me,” he murmured, his finger teasing up my cleft, then circling my clit.
The intimate little touch may as well have been an electrical current with how my body jolted, how my breath seized.
“So sensitive,” he murmured, watching his finger as he teased around my clit for a long moment before lowering himself down, and continuing the sweet torment with his tongue instead.
My hands fisted his hair, holding him against me as he drove me upward yet again.
I melted into him, into the pleasure as it built, then crested, making my thighs clamp around the sides of his head, my back arch, and my moans fill the room.
Renzo worked me through it, waiting until my thighs finally released him, then turning, and playfully biting the inside of my thigh.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said as his lips moved up my thigh, across my belly, then between my breasts. “So sweet,” he added, his lips suddenly sucking the skin of my neck, making another jolt of need course through me.
“We could stop,” he said, lips moving over the shell of my ear. “Or I could show you more.”
“More,” I whispered, wanting anything and everything he could show me if it could feel this good.
“Yeah?” he asked, suddenly shifting up, moving to sit against the headboard, then reaching for me, pulling me between his legs, settling my back against his chest, his arm moving to anchor across my belly as his other hand drifted up and down my thigh, waiting, it seemed, for my legs to part for him.
As soon as they did, his hand was between, his fingers working me, teasing my clit, then sliding down my cleft.
“This won’t hurt,” he murmured as his fingers teased the entrance to my body, making me stiffen. “Trust me, mouse,” he murmured, his breath warm and his voice sweet in my ear.
I sucked in a breath, battling back the uncertainty, the memories of the pain, and relaxing back against him.
“There you go,” he said. His finger slowly slid inside of me. As he promised, there was no pain. Just a new layer of pleasure as my walls tightened around his finger as it started to gently thrust. “See how good it can feel?” he asked, his words making my heartbeat skitter and my belly flip-flop. “You want more?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whimpered, the ache growing again, an intolerable sort of need that felt like it might never get satisfied.
Renzo’s finger slid out of me, and when it slid in again, another finger joined it.
I started to tense, but felt nothing but a sort of rightness, a friction my body was begging for.
“You almost feel ready for me,” Renzo murmured, but I was too consumed with the sensations of his fingers curving inside of me to understand his words.
I just needed more.
Faster.
Because I felt as if I was about to burst.
“You’re gonna come for me again,” he said. Then, as if my body felt compelled to agree with him, the orgasm screamed through me, making me rock against his fingers and cry out again.
Before the orgasm even finished cresting, I felt a slight pinch as Renzo slid another finger inside of me.
“Don’t tense,” he demanded. “You can take it,” he encouraged me, and I forced myself to exhale hard, relaxing against him. And realizing he was right. I could take it. The slight discomfort gave way to more of that familiar ache.
“Do you want to try again?” he asked, fingers still thrusting. “Do you want to feel me here,” he asked, thrusting a little harder, his finger separating, spreading me, preparing me for more.
I won’t lie and say there weren’t reservations, weren’t fears of the pain again. But I felt myself nodding, hoping he was right, that this time it could be different.
Renzo’s fingers left me, and then I felt myself being rolled under him again, his weight a surprisingly comforting pressure as I felt his hard length rock against my cleft.