Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
And then I can’t stop the urgency in my hands. I want to rip my own buttons for him. For this man who’s pretending to be bad for me so I could pretend to be good. I work as fast as I can and then my fronts are hanging loose. They’re fluttering, grazing my skin with every heavy breath I take. With every heavy breath he takes as well.
That I can feel wafting over my face, my forehead.
I can hear it too.
And it wavers, his breath, before turning even noisier as I part my blouse and show him what he wants to see.
My tits.
I even go so far as to cup them and lift them up and away from my body, my back arched, offering them to him.
“Like this?” I ask.
He releases a harsh breath, his eyes glued to my mounds. “Yes.”
I squeeze them slightly. “Do you… Do you like them?”
His other hand comes up and for a second, for a very, very short second, I think he’s going to touch them. That he’s going to cross the line and touch his twin brother’s girlfriend, but he doesn’t.
He smacks his other palm on the wall, by the side of my head, and rumbles, “Do I like them?”
“Yes.” I squeeze them again, lifting them up. “Do you like my tits?”
His jaw clenches. “Yeah.”
“I’ve wanted to show them to you for so long.”
He leans closer, putting pressure on his arms, doing a push-up as if. “I know.”
“For so, so long, Stellan.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
I squeeze them tightly, bringing them together and pulling them apart. “Thank you for making me.”
His eyes are glued to my tits and my working hands. “They’re so…”
“They’re so what?”
“Soft,” he breathes out. “They look so fucking soft. They look… I…”
He shakes his head, trailing off.
“You can’t find the words?”
“Fuck no,” he says, shaking his head again, his eyes still pinned on my tits.
I squeeze them again and again, bringing them together, pulling them apart as I say, “Soft is nice.”
“Fuck soft.”
“They’re also…”
“Also what?”
“Heavy,” I confess. “They feel so heavy. So swollen. And achy.”
A vein pulsates on his temple. “Achy.”
“Uh-huh. It’s like something…” I swallow. “S-something is making them all full and tingly and stretching them out and I don’t… It hurts, Stellan. It—”
“Your nipples,” he says.
“What?”
“Pull them.”
My hands stop. “I-I don’t…”
“Tug at them. Tweak them.”
“But I—”
Looking up for a second, he says, “Or I’ll do it.”
I shudder. “You… But won’t it make me hurt more? I—”
“No,” he rumbles. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“Playing with my nipples?”
“Yeah.” He clenches his jaw. “Do it. Play with your fucking nipples, Dora.”
And even though I know it’s not true, even though I know we’re making excuses and playing with my nipples won’t make me feel better at all, I still do it.
Because he told me to.
Because I want to.
I tug at my nipple and moan, my eyes fluttering closed.
And he groans.
Opening my eyes, I notice he’s back to staring at my tits, at my working hands, and I ask, “L-like this?”
“Harder.”
So I do it harder. I pull at them with my forefinger and thumb as I moan, “Stellan, I—”
“Twist them,” he orders next, his voice low and rough.
Dark like the rest of him.
Commanding.
And once again, I obey.
I twist my nipples and I do it so hard that I can’t help but come off the wall. I can’t help but arch my back and moan out his name once again, my tits jiggling with my broken breaths.
“Fuck, fuck,” he growls, “fuck.”
“Stellan, I think—”
“Distract me.”
“What?”
Veins stand taut on the side of his neck as he snaps his eyes up. “Tell me what else you’re wearing.”
I pause. “W-why?”
“Because,” he says with clenched teeth, “if it’s hurting you, showing me your tits, you bet your ass it’s hurting me too. If your tits feel all full and swollen, you bet your fucking ass I’m full and swollen too. I’m achy too, Dora. Because like you, I’ve wanted to see your tits for a long, long time as well. Like you, I’ve dreamed about seeing them. And I don’t know much about dreams, but I do know that when they come true and when they come true in a way that’s spectacular and exceeds all your goddamn expectations, then it’s very likely that it blows your mind. It’s very fucking likely that in this case, I’m going to blow in my motherfucking pants. Because I’m full and swollen and goddamn hurting in my dick and aside from blowing in my pants like an unruly teenager who has zero impulse control, there’s also a very high possibility of me blowing on your swollen and full tits. There’s a very high possibility that I blow so much that I paint your tits with my spunk and drip down your cherry fucking nipples like milk. So before I do any of that”—he jerks his chin up, motioning toward my ear—“tell me what that is.”