Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I can’t think for all the throbbing. Like my body is a raw nerve he knows how to play. Any minute now I’m going to explode. I have needed to come this badly approximately never. However, proving he is a complete and utter asshole, he stops short of giving me what I need.
And he accused me of being a serial killer.
I shudder and moan beneath him. However, he just gives me what I now know to be an evil grin. For shame. He should have warned me he was into edging. Which is not to say I wouldn’t still be exactly where I am. But manners matter and it would have been polite to say something. To give a girl warning. And I am going to tell him as much as soon as I am no longer overwhelmed and out of my mind and have remembered how to speak.
Meanwhile, his feverishly hot mouth is busy tracing a path. Up my neck and over my jaw and back to my mouth. My wrists push against his hold but it’s no good. Connor is more than strong enough to keep me in place. Though there is perhaps salvation in sight. He reaches down to grip his cock and lines up the head with my core. Fuck yes. Finally. Back and forth, he draws the thick, blunt head through the lips of my sex. Everything low in my body draws tight in anticipation.
There’s no finesse to him now. No cleverness or delaying. He shoves the long length into me. Like his dick is a goddamn battering ram knocking down a door. The sudden stretch of his thick hard-on inside me is a hell of a shock. All those little muscles in my sex spasm, and the way he groans into my ear. Like he’s the one barely hanging on. And it’s this guttural sound that hits me between the thighs and works for me to no end.
“You’re so hot and wet.” He presses the side of his face into my hair. “Fucking hell, Blue.”
I am this close to replying when he starts to move. When he grips the outside of my thigh, angling me just so, and proceeds to fuck me into his mattress. He’s all brute force and destruction as he slams himself into me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s broken down doors with his dick. But one thing I am certain of—the outline of my ass and back will be embedded in his bed for all time. And holy shit do I love it.
Our sweat-slick bodies move together. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the quiet of the night. Every muscle in him is straining as he thrusts into me. I wrap my legs around him and hold on for the ride, raising my pelvis to take him deep inside. My wrists have been freed. All the better to scratch his back and tug his hair and urge him on. Harder. Faster. Each stroke of his cock draws the tension between my hips tighter. Sensation sits at the base of my spine. So much feeling spreading out into each and every corner. No part of me is left untouched. It’s sharp and bright and ruins me completely when it hits.
I shout out and the sound echoes through the house and rings in my ears. My arms and legs wrap tightly around him. Like I’m afraid he might try to get away. But his hips buck against me, and he groans as he comes before collapsing on my chest. His chest heaves as he catches his breath. And tiny tremors have the muscles spasming in my sex. Little earthquakes keeping me from finding my feet and regaining my equilibrium. I knew sex with him would be good. This, however, is on a whole other level.
A post-coital silence settles in, punctuated by our heavy breaths and the beating of our hearts. It’s so strange the way I feel sparkly and numb and tired and happy and concerned at the same time.
He oh so carefully pulls out of me, holding the condom in place. Then he sits back on his heels, kneeling between my legs. A disheveled hero in supplication to my sex. That’s what I would name a statue of him. He ties off the prophylactic, climbs off the bed, and heads into the bathroom. All without a single word.
Someone has to say something. The quiet is killing me. But there’s no way I’m going to talk first. And anyway, it’s good for him to practice his communication skills. By being cowardly and not going first, I am in fact doing him a favor. So there.
The water turns on in the shower. He still hasn’t said anything. There’s no way he could have thought the sex was bad. I am still lying here shook. Literally. My knees are shaking like jelly. No, he can’t possibly have thought it was shit.