Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I press my hips into the mattress, knowing there's a very good chance I'll blow my load in my fucking jeans before this is all said and done.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, but she's pulling me toward her body rather than trying to shove me away.
The tangy sweetness of her coats my tongue, and I swallow it down before diving in for more.
"Beck," she moans, and the sound of my name on her lips while she's feeling so much pleasure has instantly become my favorite sound.
I'm one lucky bastard, I realize, when she begins to chant it over and over and over. She doesn't stop until her muscles lock up and her pussy convulses against my tongue.
I stop when her hand falls lifelessly to the bed at her hip. I look up, the moon highlighting the pink in her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
I crawl up her body, my mouth pressing kisses to every inch of available skin before getting to her throat.
I know I should stop her when her hand runs down the front of my jeans. I have to pull back when she lifts her leg and locks it around the back of my thigh.
"That's not happening tonight."
I groan when she rolls her hips against me, the warmth of her pussy almost right where I need it.
"I want you to feel good," she whispers, but her leg falls away.
"I do feel good," I assure her.
Her lips form a flat line, so I try and kiss her disappointment away.
"Don't pout."
She rolls her eyes, and the levity right now is exactly what we both need.
My resistance cracks a little when she pushes me to my back and reaches for my zipper.
"Did you already come?" she asks, tracing the wetness on my boxer briefs with the tip of one finger.
"Leaking," I pant, rolling my hips up to chase her hand when she pulls it away.
"That's—"
“Embarrassing.”
“Sexy,” she whispers, her hand reaching for me once again.
She pulls down the front of my boxers, my aching cock flexing to reach up at her.
“Je-sus,” I say, in a way that sounds like it's two words when she wraps her hand around me.
"This is impressive," she says, sounding a lot more confident than she did when we first got started.
"You'll make me come," I warn, arching my neck back, head pressed hard into the pillow when she runs her hand down the length of me.
She doesn't say another word or make another sound as she swirls her thumb over the tip of me, collecting my precum. I swear I'll explode if she lifts it to her mouth, but she doesn't. She uses it to coat my cock so the glide of her hand is easier.
"Brielle," I pant, my voice weak and begging.
In the next breath, my cock kicks in her hand, cum erupting from the tip. If it didn't feel so fucking good, I might be embarrassed with how quickly she took me over the edge.
She strokes me through it, a small smile playing on her lips.
Chapter 20
Brielle
He made me come, and although it wasn't the first time it's happened, it was different from the other times.
Orgasms had been used against me more times than I could count. Not once in my entire life have I ever wanted that. I've lived with shame for a very long time, for my body convincing Nathan and Xan that I liked what they were doing even though it was something I desperately fought against.
I trade places with Beck, going into the bathroom to clean up after he comes out.
We don't speak as I carry the clothes I gathered while he was busy into the bathroom and close the door.
My hand trembles over the lock. I shouldn't even have the urge to lock the door. I don't think I'm afraid of the man. He had me incredibly vulnerable earlier, and I felt nothing but safe with him.
I turn the lock, waiting for him to bang on the door and demand I unlock it, but that doesn't happen.
I climb into the shower, the walls already wet from the quick one he just took to get the cum off his skin.
I wash my body, leaving my hair alone. I can wash it tomorrow when my legs are a little steadier.
I towel off quickly, wondering if he's going to say something about me putting clothes on. It was never allowed back in Ohio, and I think that was to keep me scared and vulnerable.
I eye the closet when I step out of the bathroom, unsure of what the expectations are now that his body isn't all wound up and wanting me.
"Can I hold you?" he whispers from the bed. The desperation and need in his voice almost have the power to make me cry.
I know I can't get lost in this man. It doesn't matter how gentle and comforting he was. It doesn't matter that he told me he'd stop at any point. I know from experience that once a man gets to a certain point, there's no turning back, no matter how much someone begs them to quit. He could've taken anything he wanted from me, and I would've been powerless to stop him.