Textual Relations Read Online Lauren Rowe

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
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“I can’t believe I’m finally here with you,” Grayson gasps out, as his steely hard-on nudges into my bare thigh

I stroke his erection. “Having you here is a dream come true.”

“You’re a dream come true.” With that, he crawls between my legs and proceeds to eat and finger me exuberantly, eventually pulling a rippling orgasm out of me that makes me shudder and growl as it warps my core, and then mew like a kitten as it rolls through my extremities.

When my climax subsides, I crook my finger suggestively, prompting Grayson to scale the length of my torso like a horny rock-climber. As his face approaches mine, I’m turned on by the sight of him. His lips and chin are shiny from his meal. His arm muscles are taut, and his newly acquired six-pack noticeably cut.

When his face reaches mine, Grayson places his forearms on either side of my head, exhales a shaky breath, and nudges his beefy tip against my wet entrance. I moan with anticipation, but when it’s clear that’s as far as he’s going for now, I grip his ass with greedy palms and nonverbally instruct him to push inside and fill me up. I’m salivating with lust by now. Physically quaking with the need to be filled to the brink by this man’s thick cock. But even more so, to fuse my body with his, my soul with his—to tell him I love him while he’s fucking my brains out.

Grayson kisses me deeply, while continuing to tease me with his slick tip lodged at my entrance. After a bit, he slides his tip urgently against my clit, and the effect is like I’ve gripped an electric fence.

“Oh, God, get inside me,” I gasp out, breaking free from his kiss. I’m panting. Clutching his ass and physically pushing him inside me.

Grayson’s breathing is ragged. His smile is wicked. As he continues rubbing his tip against me, he says, “You’re the one who said anticipation can be a good thing, remember? And then proceeded to turn me on all through dinner. So, you can wait.”

I suddenly remember the implied promise I made to Grayson throughout dinner, with each squeeze of his thigh underneath the table. How could I forget about that until now?

“Bring your cock to my mouth,” I whisper. “There’s something I’ve been dying to do to you all night.”

As his entire body trembles with excitement, Grayson rearranges himself to get into position to fuck my face. “Not to completion, baby,” he whispers. “I’m not leaving this room without fucking you in your bed.”

“No argument from me.”

He grips my headboard, places his knees on either side of my face, and offers his beefy tip to my lips. Without hesitation, I begin licking and lapping at his tip and shaft, before taking his balls into my mouth. I suck each testicle enthusiastically until he’s groaning in a way that would make me smile if my mouth weren’t otherwise engaged. When his noises become desperate, I release his balls and lick his cock again, and finally take his entire length into my mouth and down my throat with energetic zeal.

Grayson makes a guttural sound that only gets louder and more desperate as my energetic blowjob continues. And I love it. It’s funny. During my marriage, I gave my husband head all the fucking time. Frankly, it was a part-time job. An exhausting one which, I later realized, was a manifestation of the power dynamic in our relationship. I gave to my husband, and he took and took but never gave. I thought that was normal, because he was my only lover, my teacher—the one with the expertise—and he obviously assumed that was the natural order of things.

But with Grayson, everything is different. Giving this sweet man a blowjob makes me feel powerful. Sexy. Turned on. I love pushing Grayson to the brink of pure ecstasy with my mouth. I love knowing I’ve got the power to make him feel like he’s physically overdosing on pure bliss, any ol’ time I please.

Speaking of which, all signs point to Grayson being on the cusp of an overdose right now. As he grunts and quakes, I grope his balls and taint enthusiastically, while my mouth continues its hungry work. And, finally, I slide my fingertip to his anus and press down, causing his entire body to jolt.

“Oh, God,” Grayson grits out. Without warning, he abruptly pulls out of my mouth and murmurs, “Close call.” He scrambles into position on top of me, whispering, “You’re one talented MILF.” And two seconds later, he’s on top of me, kissing me passionately.

I open my legs wide while gripping his naked ass, and he slides a finger inside me, apparently zeroing in on his target, before finally, blessedly, sinking himself inside me.

As Grayson’s girth and length stretches and fills me to the brink, I moan loudly along with him. And when he begins thrusting enthusiastically, I wrap my thighs around his hips, move my pelvis with his, and tell him I love him. I’m not merely having sex with Grayson’s body—I’m making love to his very soul. I feel a palpable cord of energy, love, and light connecting our bodies as we move together. I feel safe. Seen. Loved. Whatever contradictions are tangled up inside me, they all somehow make perfect sense when I’m with this man. He accepts and loves all of me, and I’m finally ready to let him love every part of me, no matter how imperfect any particular part might be.



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