Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I’m not usually so confident when I’m with a guy. But Brooks makes me feel safe enough to focus on what I want.
Cherished enough to take what I need.
How am I this close to coming when Brooks has barely even touched me yet?
He tosses his sweater and shirt onto a nearby chair and then he’s bending down and reaching for me. Putting his hands on my knees and drawing his palms upward over my thighs. My clit cries out in anticipation of his touch.
“These legs,” he murmurs reverently. “Gorgeous.” My entire being tenses when he reaches the apex of my thighs. My eyes roll to the back of my head when he gently runs his thumb over my pubic hair. “So fucking sweet.”
I suck a pained breath through my teeth. Hearing him say that is . . . wonderfully affirming. And frustrating. I want him to touch me already. I’ve waited so long for this.
His thumb pulls my lip aside, opening me a little more. The look on his face is downright feral now. Glinting eyes. Set jaw.
Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he draws his thumb up my liquid center. I suck in another breath, my hips rising into his touch. When he glides the pad of that thumb over my clit, I see stars.
“You said you’d fuck me,” I pant. “Not fuck with me.”
His gaze locks on mine. “I could make you come on my dick.”
“Okay. Yes. Please, God, yes.”
“You’re already wet.” His thumb is playing with my pussy now, stroking up, down, just shy of my clit. “And soft. So fucking soft, sweetheart. You’re gonna feel like heaven.”
My hips roll, seeking more. He watches me play with my nipple. “Uh-huh.”
He sinks his thumb inside me. Just enough to make me tense at the slightly painful sensation of fullness.
Brooks goes still. I close my eyes, afraid he’ll see the truth there. That I’m a virgin.
Now would be a good time to tell him. But what if he stops? What if he’s annoyed or, worse, embarrassed for me that I’m still hanging on to my V-card at the ripe old age of twenty-three? I can’t risk pushing him away like that. This is it. In my heart of hearts, I know I’m never going to be in a better lose-my-virginity situation. I’m with a great, incredibly attractive guy with the body of a god and a mission to make me feel safe and sexy. We’re at one of the world’s best hotels, with nothing to do all weekend but eat and drink and have more sex.
It’s kind of a dream, really.
It’s an opportunity I’m not going to let go to waste. Ten minutes ago, Brooks was telling me how we could never touch each other again. Now here we are, his hand between my legs, his unspoken promise to do what I asked him to floating between us. I have to keep the momentum going before he changes his mind again.
Besides, this can be just sex.
Yeah, I have a crush on Brooks. But that’s a far cry from catching real feelings for him. I meant what I said to Keira: the idea of Brooks and me falling for each other is so preposterous that I’ve internalized it as being on par with time travel, or Brad Pitt getting back together with Jennifer Aniston.
It just ain’t gonna happen.
I can do this, and I can keep it casual.
I need to do this. Maybe I’ll stop feeling so horny and awkward around guys if I finally do the deed. Who’s to say it won’t give me a much-needed boost of confidence? I already feel worlds better being naked with Brooks than I have with anyone else.
In his eyes, I can do no wrong. And that’s an outrageously arousing feeling.
“I’m okay.” I tilt my hips so his thumb sinks farther inside me. Then I wrap my hand around his forearm, massaging the muscles there. “Don’t stop, Brooks. Please.”
He glances down at my hand on his arm. “I have a better idea.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s on his knees on the floor and he’s grabbing my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the bed. He guides my foot to his shoulder, spreading me wide, and then he ducks his head and licks my pussy.
The sensation is so shocking—so crude and so joyful—I literally cry out.
I look down to see him smiling at me as he draws his tongue over my clit. I buck my hips. He makes a sound, something between a growl and a laugh, and flattens his palm over my stomach, pinning me to the mattress.
Being held in place while Brooks makes out with my pussy is the most frustrating, most wonderful thing that I think has ever happened to me. I feel tight all over. I’ve only had one other guy go down on me, and it was nothing like this. First of all, I was mortified by the whole thing—by my body, the spot I missed shaving, how it took so long for me to even feel a glimmer of arousal that I ended up faking my orgasm to get it over with. It didn’t help that the guy didn’t know what he was doing. He just sort of stuck the end of his tongue against me over and over, like a mini-jackhammer. He kept asking if I was close, clearly annoyed.