Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Once fully naked, I slide past him and step into the shower, his chuckle following me inside.
It only takes a few moments before he strips down and joins me. What I thought was going to be a quick shower turns into so much more as he steps up to me, wraps his arms all the way around me, and presses his lips to mine.
I cling to him, the kiss reviving every cell in my body and making me want to do something crazy, like having him lift me up so we can go for round two, but that's not reasonable. We'd end up slipping and falling, and then once again, the fire department and paramedics will arrive. I couldn't take the embarrassment of that happening again.
He releases me but doesn't step back. Instead, he grabs my hand and slides it down the front of his body, making his needs known. I don't hesitate to wrap my fingers around his cock, smiling against his neck when he hisses in pleasure.
Three strokes up and down the length of him is all it takes before his own hand is seeking the sensitive parts of my body, and once again, my knees threaten to give out when he slides several fingers inside of me. I whimper, my body aching for him as if it'll never get enough of this attention. I love what he's doing, but I also hate it at the same time.
This is the stuff fairy tales are made of, and I know better than anyone that fairy tales aren't real life, especially for a girl like me.
I swallow down the self-recrimination and do my best to just enjoy this moment rather than focusing on how quickly it'll change.
My body is wound tight, my core already fluttering down the length of his fingers. Although I'm distracted by what he's doing to me, he isn't annoyed. He shifts his hips, fucking himself into my grip when I don't have the wherewithal to move my hand myself.
"Mac," I groan when he adds his thumb into the mix, swirling it around my clit. "Going to come."
"I know, baby. Me too."
In the next breath, my lungs seize, my body seeming to implode for the briefest of seconds before that energy radiates out to tip over every part of my body. Somehow, I manage enough cognizant thought to feel the warmth of his orgasm coat my hip.
My body shudders, my hips shooting backward from too much sensation when he continues to rub that sensitive spot.
He chuckles, the laughter soft and teasing against my skin before his mouth seeks and finds mine. The kiss is slow and languid as if we do it all the time and have for years.
The threat of tears stings my eyes, confusing me. I don't know if I'm emotional from two very spectacular orgasms or if I'm sad that the more I have, the closer I get to the end of whatever this is between us.
Wordlessly, he grabs the shower gel, squeezing some onto his hands before rubbing it into my skin.
I should probably offer to do the same for him, but once I'm rinsed, I step out of the shower, needing just a few breaths to myself. My head is racing with a million thoughts, and it feels too full to keep them to myself.
Within a minute or two, after I've dried myself and I'm reaching for my clothes, he turns the water off and steps out onto the bathmat.
I do my best not to look in his direction, hoping he'll offer me the same courtesy, but resisting the sight of him, water droplets glistening on his skin and traversing the peaks and valleys of his muscles, is simply impossible. The man is utterly delicious, and I have to question his sanity when I see him looking at me much the same way, a hunger in his eyes that never seems to be satiated.
"Why?" I ask as I wrap a towel around my body.
"Why what?" he asks as he reaches for his own towel.
"Why do you always watch me like that?" I say, most of my nerve to have this conversation beginning to slip away.
"Like what?"
I clear my throat, fighting the urge to tell him never mind, but I'm tired of not having answers. "You watch me like you're not satisfied, as if you're wondering if we fuck again if you'll finally get what you need from me."
I pull my eyes from him, unable to face him directly when he calls this entire thing off.
I shake my head, another wave of burning tears threatening behind my eyes, and I hate myself for the weakness that will be displayed to him when the first one falls.
"If you aren't satisfied," I continue. "Then why keep having sex with me?"
His chuckle makes me see red, and if I were dressed, I’d storm out of that damn bathroom and walk right out into the freezing cold with a promise never to set eyes on him again.