Trust Read online by Jana Aston (Wrong #3) Free Books

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wrong Series by Jana Aston
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
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“Wait,” she says, breaking her lips from mine and placing a palm against my chest, pushing me back a few inches.

Wait? Dammit, I pushed this too soon. She looks momentarily dazed, her skin flushed, pupils dilated and hair messed.

“Can I,” she starts and stops, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and her eyes glancing downward. “I want to try something before you distract me.”

She wants to try something? I move my hands to either side of her on the dryer, caging her in. “What did you want to try, Chloe?” Please say it’s your lips, wrapped around my dick.

Her fingers grasp my belt and she tugs at the buckle then flicks her eyes to mine before quickly glancing away again.

“I wanted to give you a blow job.”

Well, my day is made.

I take over for her, swiftly unbuckling my belt. “Great. I’d like you to try that too,” I respond.

“I’m, um, I’m not sure that I’m that great at it though. Like I’m not terrible.” She pauses. “I don’t think. Average probably.” She bites her lip. “Maybe the lower end of average?”

Fucking hell. Why does the idea of Chloe fumbling her way through this make my dick swell?

She glances up, making eye contact, her green eyes no longer dazed but curious. “I thought you could give me some pointers?”

She wants me to teach her how to give a better head? My balls are already so heavy I don’t know how long this lesson is going to last. But I’m happy to find out.

I pull her off the dryer, wrapping her legs around me and walking with her to the bedroom, placing her on her feet at the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to sit on the bed or kneel on the floor?”

She tilts her head back to meet my gaze. “What’s hotter for you?” she asks.

“Get on your knees.”

She does. Instantly sinking to the floor as her tongue sweeps her bottom lip.

“You start,” I tell her. “We’ll take it from there.”

My pants hit the floor and I groan as she wraps a hand around the base of my cock. Her touch is soft and she uses her grip to guide the tip to her mouth, wrapping her lips around me, her tongue flat on the underside of my dick.

Perfect.

I don’t know what Chloe is worried about. It’s pretty hard to fuck this up. It’s pretty much un-fuckup-able.

She swirls her tongue around the tip of my cock as I wrap my hands into her hair, her eyes flicking up in question. I grunt instructions to continue and she bobs her head up and down, working the rest of me with her fist. Her eyes remain on mine and this could not be any better. I’ve had women give head like a porn star, but they weren’t Chloe. Sitting on her knees with her lips stretched around me while looking me straight in the eye.

But then she stops, sits back on her heels and looks at me from beneath her lashes. “Tell me what else to do,” she says. “Tell me how to make it better for you.”

“It’s perfect, Chloe.”

But she shakes her head no before I’m finished speaking. “Tell me. Just one thing,” she adds when I don’t answer her quickly enough.

“Give me your hand,” I tell her and she looks surprised for a moment but does. I wrap mine over hers and guide her to cup my balls, squeezing her hand gently. She catches on and takes over from there. Her hand is so fucking soft as she cups them, gently massaging as she takes me back into her mouth and wraps her other hand around my shaft again.

I’m not going to last.

Perfect 2.0.

And when I tell her I’m going to come and she sucks harder?

Best. Day. Ever.

I fall onto the bed after, white spots still impairing my vision while Chloe crawls onto the bed beside me and lies in the crook of my arm while my heart rate returns to normal.

“Five stars,” I say, remembering what she said to me in Vail, and she smiles against my chest. And then I make sure that smile is replaced with a gasp and a lot of moans as I return the favor.

Gasps and moans and toe-curling and an ‘Oh, my God, Boyd, I don’t think I can come again,’ later, I’m moments away from suggesting we move this into the shower for round three when she sits up.

“The dryer stopped.”

And with that she’s out of bed and putting her clothing back on.

“I should go,” she says, as she stuffs her arms into the sleeve of her shirt. “I have lesson plan stuff.” She slides it over her head and lifts an ankle to slip those ridiculous non-pants on over her foot. “And I need to dust.” The other ankle goes through and then she’s pulled the leggings to her waist and dashed into the laundry room. I get out of bed and pull my jeans back on sans underwear and follow her. She’s not even folding her clothes, just stuffing them straight from the dryer to the basket. “I can walk. Or take a cab.” She turns to see me standing in the doorway, her eyes on my naked chest. “Or walk,” she repeats.



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