Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Chapter 21
Liam
We stare at each other for a long moment as if neither one of us can believe what just happened.
I don't recall a moment in my life, even as a teenager, that I was able to come without touching my cock. Maybe it's because I never resisted the urge before. It's possible I’ve always had the ability, but I highly doubt it. She's the reason for this. The way she moaned, the way she looked surprised that riding that toy felt so good.
I can't pull my eyes away from her as she lifts herself off that fake cock. My own dick hasn't flagged at all. I don't know that it will anytime soon. The drop I always experience after coming hasn’t happened yet.
“Can we watch more of that baking show?” she asks as if she's not only two minutes past her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she came.
“After we shower,” I answer as I climb off the bed. That Black cock is glistening, covered in her arousal, and I know that if I don't step around her and head to the bathroom, I'm going to do something really fucking stupid with it.
I figure I can get a shower first. I can be quick and efficient and then she can take all the time she needs. Her footsteps follow close behind me as I reach into the shower to turn the water on. I freeze after stepping inside before I can tilt my head back underneath the spray.
She's carrying the dildo into the bathroom. And of course I'm still hard as I watch her wash it in the sink. Bubbles cover her hands and the cock as she strokes up and down it. She's not doing it to impress me. She's not doing it to turn me on.
But it doesn't matter. God, I want her hands on me. I want her mouth on me. I want to swallow her moans. I want to taste and lick and nip and bite every inch of her body—the backs of her knees, the tops of her thighs, her shoulders. I want to suck on her fingers.
“Goddammit,” I grumble, finally tilting my head back into the water. I'm reaching for the shampoo when she smacks the dildo onto the countertop. The suction cup takes hold, and it wiggles back and forth as if taunting her when she releases it. But she doesn't hesitate to turn to face the shower. She doesn't pause her steps as she walks closer. And of course my cock is still hard. I may die with an erection at this point.
She's careful not to touch me as she slides past me and turns on the shower head opposite of the one I'm standing under. We've never done this before. We've never shared the shower. I've never threatened her with it, despite wanting to every single time she's in here alone.
She's not trying to turn me on but it doesn't take much these days. A sleepy smile, a yawn, the way her lips wrap around a fresh strawberry as she watches television. She's torturing me and I don't even think she knows it.
There's no medical reason for my cock to still be pointing at her. I came so hard watching her that it should have flagged already. It's unsatisfied despite the pleasure it felt earlier.
“I'm sorry,” I tell her, apologizing for the first time in a very long time. I have to. I grip my cock, stroking it as I glare at her. I'm not mad or angry. I'm not upset. If anything, I'm confused because I don't understand why she makes me feel the way that I feel.
I mean, yeah, she's beautiful. Her body is fucking phenomenal. But she's not the first beautiful woman I've seen with a phenomenal body. It's not the way she looks. Her good looks don't hurt but that's not what's making me feel this way. It's her, just her.
“I know,” she says softly. “It looks painful.”
Does she care that I may be in pain? It becomes obviously clear that she doesn’t. As she starts to shower, she pays no attention to me, no attention to my hand despite me assuming earlier that’s exactly what she wanted. It irritates me because I would never be strong enough to turn around and not watch if the roles were reversed. If she were pleasing herself, my eyes would be locked on her hand or on her jiggling tits or on the way her mouth hangs open before she comes.
“Turn around,” I command, and the second she does, I erupt. I splash her skin with jizz, glaring into her eyes, challenging her to argue, daring her to open her mouth and say something about it. I don’t apologize this time before climbing out and grabbing a towel.