Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Right now, as the alcohol moved through me, I wasn’t making love to her. I was using her body to find my release, to give Leila hers.
Leila deserved sweet and soft, not this raw passion, the erotic, obscene touches I gave her. But I couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get enough of her.
I placed both my hands beside her head, my arms locked straight, my upper body off hers slightly as I continued to thrust in and out of her.
“So tight. So wet,” I groaned, whispering dirty words, filthy things that had me growing hotter, had her pussy clenching around my cock as I plunged and retreated. “I’m never going to get enough. This pussy is mine, mine to touch, to lick, to own… to fuck.”
She was the only woman for me.
“Devon,” she cried out my name when I pounded into her.
“That’s it, baby, take all of me.” I thrust into her, my balls slapping her ass, making her pussy suck at my cock because I filled her so much. The ecstasy and agony merged into one. “Yeah, baby. Fuck. Yeah.” I reached between us and ran my finger over her clit.
And just like that, she came again, her pussy clenching around my cock. I felt her become even wetter, knew her sweet pussy cream would be covering my length.
I continued to pump inside her, going faster, moving harder, seeking my own release for the second time. And then I found it, pushed every long, big fucking inch of my massive dick into her cunt, and came, filling her up, making sure she took every last ounce of my seed.
The whole time, she clutched at me, kept me close. My chest was to hers, and the feeling of her hard little nipples moving along my pecs had me groaning again.
With one final grunt, I regretfully pulled out of her but instantly reached between her thighs and covered her pussy with my hand, making sure my cum stayed right where I wanted it.
I pulled my hand away, seeing a smear of blood mixed with her gloss as it covered the digits.
I placed my hand back on her pussy, adding a bit of pressure. “This is mine, Leila,” I murmured, this euphoric wave washing over me. I slid my hand up her belly, over her chest, and let my palm and fingers rest along her slender throat.
I wanted to show her without words, with the gentle pressure of my hand on her… that I didn’t want to let her go, in the figurative and literal sense.
8
Devon
What in the actual fuck?
I groaned and opened my eyes.
Dammit, my head was pounding, the room spinning, and I knew if I got out of the bed right now, I’d probably fall flat on my ass then promptly throw up.
I ran a hand over my face, feeling the scruff was even thicker, since I hadn’t shaved in a couple days. I opened my eyes and looked out the window, the sun way too bright, so fucking bright it made my headache pound even more. I was pretty sure my skull was going to crack at this point.
I was good and hungover. Shit, I hadn’t felt this shitty, hadn’t drank that much since my college days. Now I remembered why I stopped.
At that thought, I remembered last night in full clarity how I touched her, kissed her… made her mine. Despite my hungover, alcohol-induced feelings, my dick started to get hard at the thought of how she felt, how I filled her up in more than one way.
Closing my eyes again, I breathed through the wave of nausea that assaulted me, but still my damn cock was hard and getting stiffer by the second. When the room stopped spinning, I pushed myself up on the bed and looked around the room.
The spot beside me was empty, and as I ran my hand over the rumpled sheets, feeling how cold they were, I realized Leila hadn’t been beside me for a while.
The sheet covered my lower body, my dick starting to tent the material. I reached down and tried to adjust myself, to stem off the arousal threatening to consume me.
“Leila?” I called for her but heard silence. I was about to call for her again when my cell phone started vibrating on the bedside table beside me. Grabbing it and looking down at the new text from Braxton, I groaned as I remembered sending him one last night in my drunken state, asking him for a ride for us this morning.
Braxton: You must have had one hell of a night, messaging me that late.
There were those three gray dots that told me he wasn’t done yet.
Braxton: I can be there in ten to take you to get your cars.
Me: Thanks, man.
I tossed my cell back on the bedside table and pushed the sheet off me, standing and walking over to the dresser then throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.