Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Vasey slaps her hand against her chest. “Are you admitting to spying on me?”
“You could try being less hot. I’d like to watch you sit on the bed and finger yourself. Remember you did that once when we were driving? I almost crashed into a tree. I jerked off to that memory of you more times than is healthy.”
“Yes, well, hmmm,” she sputters.
I laugh and take two strides until she’s in my arms.
“I’m not done!” she squeals.
“Think of it as a break.” I place her on the bed and then go and grab a chair.
She gives me an uncertain look. I unzip and pull out my cock. “Let me see you touch yourself.”
Uncertainty gives way to greed at the sight of my shaft. I squeeze the base so I don’t shoot off my wad while she’s staring at me.
“I want a taste.” She starts to climb off the bed.
“No,” I order sharply.
She stills, pushing her lower lip out. “But, West, you’re supposed to give me what I want.”
“Slip off your panties and spread your legs. Let me see what’s mine.” It’s a battle now, mostly between me and my own desires but for her heart, too. She needs to see that her pleasure is the most important thing in the world. That she comes first in my heart. Everything I do is for her, including this. I don’t want her to go another minute with her thinking I don’t want her, don’t lust after her, don’t spend every second of every day with her at the very front of my mind.
Her sex is a dusky rose and wet. I can see her juice glisten like expensive diamonds under the candlelight. She hovers her fingers over her mound. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. I’m not going to last.
“Lower, Vasey. You’re off your mark by about six inches.”
“This is embarrassing, West,” she hisses.
“How can it be? It’s just me, your lover, holding his own cock in his hand ready to come at any second, wanting to see you touch your pretty cunt. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
She slides her fingers lower until they rest at the entrance of her sex. I exhale heavily, probably looking like an angry bull with my nostrils flaring and my teeth bared but she’s so damned sexy I want to explode.
Her eyes flutter closed when she pushes past the slight resistance of her cunt. It’s unused to activity, and despite our lovemaking last night, even two slender fingers inside is tight. The memory of the sensation of being wrapped in her sheath grips me by the throat and cuts off my airway.
“Tell me what it feels like.”
She licks her bottom lip. “Warm. Squishy. Tight.”
She begins to fuck herself slowly. Her fingers don’t penetrate far. Her hands are too small, her fingers too short. She gnaws on her lip, searching for a release that dangles just outside her reach. I rub my cock tighter and faster, imagining that it’s her mouth, her hand, her soft, wet, squishy cunt surrounding me.
“Do you remember when I touched you there for the first time? It was on the Morris Farm. We finished our chores. I was mucking the stables, and you were feeding the goats and chickens. We were both hot and sweaty.”
“You had hay in your hair.”
“Shit on my boots.”
“I sprayed you down with the hose.”
“And stared at me like you’d never seen me before.”
“Your T-shirt was white and thin.” She pauses.
“Don’t stop.” I want to hear about all her lustful thoughts.
“Very thin.” Her tongue peeks between her teeth. She’s so hot.
“It wasn’t the first time I kissed you, but it was the first time I kissed you there.” I look toward her cunt where her fingers are shuttling in and out.
“You were hard. I could see it through your jeans.”
“Wet denim is a bitch to pull off. I tore your panties by accident.”
“Accident?” She huffs out a disbelieving laugh.
“Hard to say now. My fingers were rough and calloused and when I touched you, I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
“It felt so good.”
“Are you imagining that it’s my fingers inside you right now?”
She nods.
“I want it too, babe, just like back then, but I couldn’t stop with touching you. I had to taste you. You came on my tongue, and it was so sweet and tangy. We would’ve gone further, but the Morrises called us in for supper.”
“I had to go without underwear.” Her eyes are half-lidded as she remembers that night at dinner.
“Your cunt rubbed against the seam of your jeans.”
“I kept shifting, and Mrs. Morris asked me if I had to go to the bathroom.”
“And you said yes and went to the bathroom to touch yourself.”
“I had to,” she cries.
I sat at the dinner table an extra-long time because my hard-on was too obvious to stand up. “I kept thinking about how my cock would feel inside you because my tongue, my fingers, weren’t enough. Just like your fingers aren’t enough for you now.” I stand to my feet and strip off my jeans. In one stride, I’m on top of her. I take myself in hand and thrust inside her wet heat. She gasps and rakes her fingernails down my back.