Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
And he’d touch me, those strong hands that had sent a little quiver of awareness through me the first time we’d touched. A simple handshake, but it was so easy to imagine more. To remember the warmth and strength of Brady’s grip and think about what it would feel like elsewhere.
My breath hitched in my throat as my own light-as-a-feather touch moved lower, skimmed along the pulsing vein that stood out from my neck and sent a cascade of erotic shivers through my body.
Would Brady’s touch have been so light, so delicate as it traveled down to the base of my neck, to the spot where I could feel my pulse fluttering against my fingertips… faster and faster as I let myself start to fall deeper into the fantasy?
No, Brady’s touch would be firm, his large hands more insistent. And he wouldn’t waste any time. He’d know how badly I wanted him.
His hands would move lower, trailing that pleasure down toward my already hard nipples. Just like… just like I was doing.
My breaths came shorter and faster in the warm cloud of the shower’s steam as I moved my own hands lower, circling first one, then the other of my sensitive nipples.
Brady would pinch them.
“Oh, God,” I moaned as I did it, my head falling back to bump against the tile as my touch—so easy to let myself imagine it was really Brady’s touch—sent a jolt of heat straight to my pussy.
I glanced down towards my crotch but resisted the urge to touch myself there.
I was happy to let this fantasy play out for as long as I could. To draw it out and enjoy it. Yes, I’d taken care of myself plenty of times since I was a virgin, but so much of that had been just… physical. Just a quick release. And even before, when I’d let myself fantasize about Brady right after we’d met, it had been more abstract.
He was becoming more real to me now, though.
I may not like what Brady was doing—not gonna think about that, though—but I liked the man. I liked the way he looked at me sometimes. Liked to watch the play of muscles under his clothes. Liked those moments when we inadvertently brushed against each other.
Liked how he treated me, even though we didn’t know each other well.
And this? Now? No way was I going to rush it.
I grazed my nipples again, letting my eyes flutter closed as I gave myself permission to imagine every single thing I wanted. To let my own hands do everything I wanted.
It was probably the closest I’d ever get to feeling his touch on my body, and even though the “Brady” part of it was all in my head, I was determined to enjoy every second of it.
My pussy pulsed as I imagined how Brady would look in here with me. Naked and wet and oh God, looking at me while he touched me. Leaning in to kiss me while his hands worked their magic.
Swallowing the low moans and panting little gasps that I couldn’t stop myself from making. And the sensations that were coursing through my body, the ripples of pleasure that fantasy-Brady’s fingers were bringing me, only made me want more.
More.
Faster.
Now.
I’d let Brady know it, too. I’d tell him exactly what I wanted, and his eyes would flare with heat as he gave it to me…
I bit my lip to stifle another moan—this one far too loud—as my hands traveled down over my stomach. Almost there. My pussy clenched in anticipation, but I hesitated for a second as I considered what my sexy fantasy football player might do.
Would he have followed those big, calloused hands down my body with a trail of hungry kisses? Would he growl my name with that sexy, deep voice that made my whole-body shiver with pure, primal lust?
“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes popping open and my own voice sounding rough and gravelly to my ears, thick with desire.
My imaginary version of Brady would happily do all of those things, and more. He’d crowd me back against the wall, pressing that big, hard body against me, and drive me crazy.
I moaned again, shoving one fist into my mouth to stifle the sound and finally—finally—teasing one finger around my so-tense-it-was-aching pussy.
Oh, God. Oh… yes.
It was so good—I was so turned on, so lost in the fantasy—that it really did feel like Brady’s fingers, slowly starting to stroke me.
And then... faster.
I closed my eyes again as I thrust one finger into my pussy, trying and failing to swallow back the low, needy moans that escaped my lips every time my thumb slid over my throbbing clit. Brady’s thumb. Brady… still pressing against me. Rough stubble against my throat, inflaming me. Warm lips moving against my skin… sucking... licking… telling me how much he wanted me to come for him.