Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I just want everything.
But I don’t have to finish the thought. With strong hands, Jason pushes me against the kitchen island. I’m so ready for another rough and hungry kiss.
He clasps my face firmly and drops his lips to mine.
Thank god.
Only this time, he’s not fast. He’s not rough. He kisses me soft, and slow, and tender, and I want to die because it’s so good.
I had no idea a kiss could make me feel like my bones were melting. This one might be even better than his hard and rough kisses. I go weak in the fucking knees as he explores my mouth with slow, hungry licks. “Mmm, your lips,” he murmurs against me.
How is this weightless feeling possible? I’m floating above the earth as he sweeps his tongue along the seam of my lips, opens me up, then deepens the kiss.
Sensations whip through me—lust and need and heat. They jostle each other in a mad frenzy.
I want to feel everything.
And a part of me is raring to charge past this kiss, grapple with his clothes, strip him naked, and devour him in seconds.
I want to get off. I want to get him off.
But I can’t sprint ahead. He won’t let me. Jason’s got me caged in, his hands holding my face as mine grip his hips. There’s an inch between us. Maybe.
He doesn’t let go of me, and the longer he goes on bestowing drugging kisses on my lips, the less I want to speed ahead into sex.
The more I want . . . whatever he’ll give me. Whatever he’ll show me.
Because he’s definitely showing me right now how to kiss the man you can’t stop thinking about.
It’s a masterclass, and he’s taking me through it lesson by lesson. He’s breaking me down with devastating kisses. A soft one on the corner of my lips. A firm press to my mouth. A flick of his tongue over mine. Then he travels along my jaw, kissing under it, his lips sliding along my stubble.
It’s unbelievable.
I moan—for days, it seems. Maybe I’ve been moaning the whole time. I’m intoxicated by him as he kisses under my chin, along my neck, up to my jawline. He licks the shell of my ear, and my entire body jumps.
“Ahhh,” I murmur.
I can feel him smile against me.
Then I can feel how much he wants me when he pushes his pelvis flush to me at last.
Yessss.
There’s no more space between us. There’s only his hard-on rubbing against mine.
He draws my earlobe into his mouth, bites down, then releases it with a long, low mmmm. I groan in an endless rumble. I don’t think I can stop making all these noises.
Jason pulls back and meets my gaze. Those blue eyes glimmer. “What are these things you’re thinking, Caff?”
I see the chance, and I grab it. “Can I get you naked and suck your cock?”
With dirty deeds in his eyes, Jason reaches back to take my right hand from his hip and then slides my palm to the outline of his cock.
“God,” I grunt as I feel the shape of him, the steel of him.
“This what you want?”
My mouth waters, and I nod savagely. “Yes.”
He hums, low and husky in his throat. He grips my hand tighter, so I can squeeze his dick harder.
I can’t wait anymore. I try to drop to my knees, but he stops me with a laugh and a hand on my waist.
“What?” I ask, worried I messed up already.
“Let me enjoy you,” he says. “Let me feel like a fucking king when you get down on your knees and suck me off.”
On that mic drop, Jason leaves the kitchen, walks through the wide doorway to the living room, then weaves around to his couch.
He doesn’t even look back at me. He just sinks onto the cushions. The blinds are down. No one can see us. But someone might be able to see the outline of my back or the silhouette of his head.
And I don’t care.
I follow him, and when I reach him, he lifts his face, gives me a cocky smile, then says, “You want me to tell you how I like a blow job?”
Fuck yes. “Thank you,” I blurt out.
He laughs. “For what?”
“For knowing I was going to ask you to . . . well, to show me,” I say, standing in front of him, drinking him in, unsure where to start, when a flurry of black and white fur skids into the room and then leaps onto the back of the couch.
“Meow!”
The cat struts along the furniture, and I crack up. Jason rolls his eyes, then turns his face to the critter. “Dude, you better watch it, or I’m gonna rename you CockBlocker.”
Taco sashays past Jason’s head, jumps to the cushions, and stalks over to me, reaching out a paw to touch my leg. “Um, your cat has a thing for me,” I say, bending to pet Taco’s head.