Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I was all but teed up for a crash landing, might as well dive from this tower myself.
With a series of beeps, I angrily set up my workout and the heart-rate monitor. When I started a walking warm-up, I felt his gaze on me.
“Why didn’t I buy you a treadmill on day one?”
I glanced over my shoulder.
He was in no way pissed. He sat up against the headboard, hands behind his head, with that I command all I survey expression. The left corner of his lips curved. I’d noticed that side tilted up when he was amused—and his tricky mind was engaged. “I want to wake up like this every morning,” he said. “Ah, the views go on forever, Katya.”
Facing forward, I started my run, determined to think of anything but his eyes on my body. Ignore him. I needed to get into my runner’s zone, that focused headspace I craved.
After my first mile, I glanced over my shoulder again, found his gaze transfixed on me. He regarded me as he might a gift he planned to unwrap. A distinct bulge tented the cover, but he appeared to be biding his time.
I started to sweat, breaths shallowing. Halfway through, I glanced back. One of his arms had snaked under the cover, that bicep flexing rhythmically. Por Dios, he was stroking himself as he watched me.
I stutter-stepped, the heart monitor beeping like crazy.
The devil knew what that sound meant. He chuckled.
No headspace. I was hyperaware of everything around me. My skin pricked with chills, even as I was burning up inside. I felt every drop of sweat trickling over my body. My nipples strained against my bra.
Running always made me horny. Running with him watching? Made. Me. Loca.
Any time I tried to take a break and process everything that was happening, he invaded my thoughts. All I could see, hear, or feel was him—as if he’d gotten a foothold in my mind and heart and had started swinging elbows.
With difficulty, I finished my miles. As I started my cool down, I wondered what I would find when I turned again. Maybe he’d already jacked off. Maybe he’d leave me alone. When I stepped off the treadmill, I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his swollen cock jutting. My pussy clenched for it.
But I forced myself to head toward the shower. As I passed him, he caught my hand.
“You’re going to have a seat.” He used his other hand to pat one of his thighs.
“I’m dripping sweat.”
His lids went heavy. “I know.” He reached forward and yanked down my boy shorts. Before I could step out of them, or my shoes, he’d lifted me over his lap as if I weighed nothing.
With my back to his chest, he tucked his cockhead against my entrance. Grasping me behind my knees, he held me open atop his rod. “I’ll give you this slow.”
My arousal slicked the way as he sensuously . . . inch by inch . . . allowed me to glide down . . .
A gust of breath left him. “Your pussy’s searing me. Is my Katya still in heat?” His shaft thickened near the base. My core had to stretch to swallow his girth. “Or does running arouse you?” He yanked up my soaked bra. His hands wandered all over my damp belly, breasts, and sex.
“Running,” I gasped out. With my shoes still on, my shorts around one ankle, and my bra hiked up, I arched to his touch. “But knowing you watched me, the way you watched me . . .”
He kneaded my sweat-slicked tits and pinched my nipples, ruthlessly, as he had in the shower. “You get me harder than I’ve ever been. For an hour, I wet the sheet with pre-cum, my balls laden for you.”
When he tickled my clit, I moaned, beginning to grind on him. I undulated, impaled, using his shaft.
He pressed his lips to the spot where my shoulder met my neck. With an openmouthed kiss, he licked my sweat, rasping against my skin, “Mine.”
Ay, Dios mío, it is so good! The message he’d written was true. Too good. I needed my boundary!
As if he knew I wanted to resist him, he commanded, “Surrender,” as his fingers covered my clit, rubbing side to side, fast, hard.
My eyes slid closed, my mind shutting down, almost like that headspace I’d craved.
Sensation ruled me.
I was aware of his cock, his hands—and his rumbling voice. I held on to the sound of it, as if he were leading me home. I moved on him like I’d never moved, keening his name. I craned my head back to get his mouth on mine, knowing he’d share the taste of my sweat and brand my mind with memories.
When I came, I was shaken, my cry against his lips plaintive. Don’t do this to me.
In answer, his warm cum flooded me, as if to repeat, “Mine.”
For how long . . . ?
His body quaked with after-shudders, his arms locked around me. He clutched me tightly, as if I were a treasure he’d never part with.
“That merely took the edge off.” He nipped my earlobe. “I’m nowhere close to satiation.” There was a smile in his voice. Someone was having a great morning.
Setting me up for a crash. I disentangled myself from his arms, levering myself off his still hard dick.
He hissed in a breath. “That was . . . abrupt.”
Without looking at him, I stepped from my shorts, toeing off my shoes and socks. I made my way to the shower.
Denying my escape, he joined me under the cascade, dragging me close. He peered down at my face, but I gazed away.
“Ah. I think you enjoyed that too much. I know I did. Does it make you uneasy?”
“Why do you have to sleep with me?” I demanded. “You don’t even like me. You keep your things in the master bedroom. Why don’t you keep yourself there?”
“Hmm. Maybe we should both sleep in my room, the master’s bedroom. Perhaps I’ll have your treadmill and your things transferred.”