Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
My man.
I repeat the phrase, again and again, convincing myself this is it, the moment he realizes he only needs me. Forever.
“F-f-fuck,” I cry, finally finding my voice again.
My hips are moving as though on their own, and then another wave crashes into me.
I fall back, finding it difficult to keep up as my entire life becomes this one thing, this moment, this feeling. It’s just the euphoria in my core, fueled by my man’s tongue, and I just know – at least now – that everything’s going to work out okay.
Then the orgasm passes. I lean forward, struggling to catch my breath, my head groggy as if trying to tip me off balance.
What the heck was I just thinking?
He doesn’t even know he’s my man.
“Lucy.” He stands unsteadily as if lust has made him drunk. “I need you. I know what you said, but I’ll die if I don’t drive my rock-hard dick into your tight slit.”
“I want it,” I say.
A mistake.
His blood must be thundering through him, especially to his manhood. Even in his jeans, I can see his huge outline, and I remember how gigantic he felt against my belly.
I’m telling him the truth. I do want it.
But it’s clear he’s taken my statement to mean I can do it.
And they’re two very different things.
“Wait,” I say.
His hand pauses on his belt buckle, trembling. He looks at me with partially glazed eyes, his jaw tight, and for a second, I think he’s going to tear his belt loose anyway.
For a second, I want him to.
“I’m a virgin.” I just get it out there, Band-Aid-style like I should’ve done before, so I don’t have time to overthink it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
His voice has taken on an even dreamier quality. I get the sense he’s thinking a lot of stuff he’s not sharing with me. I’m sure I can see it, flitting across his eyes, birds of thought flying here and there.
“But I mean….” I sit up, adjusting my dress. “I can’t…my first time…not here.”
It’s difficult to speak in complete sentences when his hard gaze is fixed on me like this.
“I still need you,” he snarls.
“But I….”
“Not that,” he says, walking to the edge of the bed.
Reaching down, he smooths hair from my face, made messy from the orgasm.
“Give me your full, round, curvy, perfect tits, Lucy,” he growls. “If I can’t take your perfect – fuck – virgin sex, I’ll take the rest of you instead.”
“What do you mean…give them to you?” I whimper.
He smirks. “I mean, tell me I can do any damn thing I want to them.”
“Aren’t you mad?” I ask.
He shakes his head slowly. “It makes me want you more.”
I gasp. “How?”
“Later. Now, I need you.”
“Y-yes,” I say. “Have me, Logan. Do what you want. I…I want it too.”
He kneels again. For a truly surreal moment, I think he’s going to propose to me. But then he leans over and holds his lips over mine.
“What I want, first, is for you to taste your tangy pussy. Can you do that for me?”
“Will it turn you on?”
He smirks. “Yes, it fucking will.”
“Then I can do that.”
It’s difficult to comprehend this thrill, this power…the look of a man I never dreamed I’d get, and his complete attention like he’s as enthralled with me as I am with him.
The rest of it—the photos—I don’t let myself think of those.
He pushes his lips against mine, reaching down at the same time and yanking down the front of my dress. I gasp through the kiss as I do it; really freaking do it.
Taste myself on his lips.
I know I’d find this icky in any other context, but when I feel Logan’s body getting even hotter, filled with lust…and all for me, when I feel that, I want it more.
I open my mouth and taste myself more passionately.
Logan grunts, stepping back, staring down at my bra.
“Get them out. Now.”
It makes me want you more.
As I unclip my bra, I remember what he said about me being a virgin. I asked how and he said he’d tell me later.
What the heck does he mean?
I don’t understand why it would make him want me more, but I’m not about to stop either.
I throw my bra aside and stare at him, self-consciousness trying to tear a hole in the moment's perfection as his gaze moves down over my breasts.
The self-consciousness part goes away when I look into his face, into the captivated obsession there.
“Fuck,” he groans, quickly undoing his belt and pulling it loose.
His cock is even bigger than I guessed. It springs out of his pants, massive, the helm bulging and covered in precome. A dominant vein pulses on one side, showing me how hard he is, as though he’s almost bursting with his desire.