The Frat Boy (Nashville Neighborhood #4) Read Online Nikki Sloane

Categories Genre: College, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Nashville Neighborhood Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
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“Don’t look at the camera,” Scott said.

I dropped my gaze to the girl who knelt on the floor in front of me. Her hands glided up my parted legs and I swallowed so loudly it was audible. The outer ring of her irises was a navy blue, but the rest was a brilliant sapphire.

“Ask her what she’s going to do, Madison.” The way Nina sounded, I pictured her with an evil grin. Was she enjoying watching us?

My voice was shakier than I expected it to be. “What are you going to do?”

Abbie exhaled and grinned. “I’m going to kiss you,” she ran her thumb through my slit, brushing it over my clit, “right here. Right on this pretty pussy.”

I squirmed with excitement, but also because I was so turned on her statement caused pleasure so acute it verged on pain. I sank back in my seat and pressed my lips together, encouraging her.

Offering myself to her.

“Fuck,” I breathed as her mouth made contact.

Slow, almost chaste kisses were planted on my sensitive skin just above my clit, and then just below it. She teased, drawing out my anticipation.

The slight quiver that traveled up the insides of my thighs now was so different from the scene I’d done with Colin. Those tremors had shaken my whole body, radiating out from my core, like every cell of me was connected and involved and clamoring for . . .

I wasn’t sure. Definitely not him, though. Just something.

These little trembles were nothing in comparison. An involuntary response to the loose strands of her hair tickling my sensitized skin.

The last thing I wanted to think about when her lush tongue glanced across my clit was Colin Novak, and yet that was exactly what happened. As she used her mouth on me, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what he was doing right now on the other side of the door. Was he getting himself hard for his upcoming scene?

Was he picturing this, Abbie going down on me?

I should have been horrified at the idea he’d think about me as he jerked off, yet it didn’t bother me. I wasn’t willing to admit I liked the idea—even if any part of me did.

It wasn’t surprising how quickly Abbie ramped up the intensity. While her tongue flicked and fluttered over my clit, she eased those same two fingers back inside me. I widened my legs, giving her more room to work with, and I traced a finger over her hairline to push a wayward strand out of her way.

The ache inside me loved what was happening, but it was also greedy. It hungered for an orgasm, and the need she created was fucking consuming. It threatened to swallow me up, to make me melt into a puddle.

I moaned and clawed at the tile beneath me. She was so good at what she was doing, and she was fulfilling a fantasy I’d had for years, and the camera was watching—

Her mouth lifted away just long enough to ask it. “Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

“Oh, my God,” I gasped.

Her question doused me in fire, and my body was desperate to please her. My moans grew louder and more frequent as her fingers thrust faster, and faster, and faster . . .

The orgasm pulled me up, like floating on the surface during a huge wave. I surrendered to it, letting it carry me away into ecstasy as I shuddered through my climax. My low groan was heavy with satisfaction, and since it was unmistakable what had happened, Abbie’s expert tongue ceased.

Holy shit.

Everything was tingling and warm.

She climbed to her feet and leaned over me, crushing her mouth to mine. Her kiss was blistering, and my taste lingered on her lips.

It was dirty.

And so hot.

“See?” she said as I fought to get my breathing back under control. “Wasn’t that nice?”

My post-orgasm mind was too hazy to put words together. I simply stared at her and the water falling from the shower behind her, misting both of us faintly.

Finally, she slipped a hand under my elbow and gently helped me stand from the bench. “Come on,” she said in a hush, but probably loud enough for the microphones to pick up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She grabbed the bottle of body wash, squeezed a dollop of it into her palm before passing the bottle to me, and rubbed her hands together. The soap was slicked over my body, her slippery hands gliding everywhere. Her sensual touch was welcomed, and I repeated her action, using my own handfuls of the lightly scented soap to clean her skin.

As we kissed, I pictured us. Our foam-covered bodies pressed together, our hands clinging to each other while we moved under the stream of water. This was the end of the first scene, and I tried to enjoy the quiet moment before the next one would begin.



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