Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“How will I know?”
Sounds to me like that’s the only kind of guy she’s ever dated. “Guys who try to talk you into something before you’re ready. Up here.” I tap the side of her head. “And down here.” I cup her pussy through her thin underwear. She’s hot and the material’s soaked. Fuuuck. Nervous or not, she’s really into this.
She inhales an adorably long breath—like she needs to work up the courage. Even that dials up my need for her. She’s scared but wants me bad enough to push through her fear.
I’m desperate to please her in every way possible. Need to taste her, feel her quiver against my tongue—we might need to spend more than one night on oral lessons.
“First, these need to go.” I tease one finger along the edge of blue lace. She yanks her legs together, blocking herself from view.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to eat your pussy, not your panties.”
She gasps, then laughs. “You have a really filthy mouth.”
“I know, and I want to kiss your pussy with it.”
More giggles and while she’s still shaking with laughter, she hooks her thumbs in her underwear and lifts her hips.
“Yes,” I groan. “Pull them down for me slowly.”
She shimmies and slides the material down a few inches. My patience snaps and I take over, ripping them down her legs and tossing them aside.
She slams her knees together.
“Margot,” I warn, running my hand over her calf. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s really bright in here.”
I’ve pushed her a lot in the short amount of time I’ve been here, I can give her this. “I like looking at you, though.” I push myself up and brush a kiss against her knee. “But if it bugs you, I’ll turn the overhead light off.”
She nods quickly and points to a small lamp on the nightstand and one floor lamp in the corner.
“Done.” I bounce off the bed and turn on the lamp by the bed first, then find the switch by the door and flip the ceiling light off. “Better?”
A soft “yes” comes out of her mouth, but her knees stay pressed together.
One day, when she’s more confident, I want to drag this out. Torture her. Have her begging me to let her come, then beg me to make it stop. But not today. I want to help her discover what she likes, and I want to learn everything about her body.
She’s teaching me as much as I’m teaching her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Margot
It’s not easy to meet Jigsaw’s intense stare but I can’t close my eyes either. He’s impressive in his intensity—chest heaving, cheeks flushed, dark gaze focused on my face.
He kneels on the bed in front of me and lazily drags his fingers up and down my calves. Like he’s trying to soothe a skittish rabbit. His eyes never leave my face, though. Constantly observing my reactions.
He presses a kiss to one knee, then traces his tongue along the ticklish crease.
“That tickles.” I shake with laughter, my legs falling apart a few inches.
“Mmm.” He licks and nibbles along the inside of my knee and up my thigh. “Open for me.”
His low voice and gentle but insistent touch shoot a surge of lust straight to my center, shoving my shyness out of the way. My knees fall open.
He sucks in a sharp breath and stares for so long, I squeeze my eyes shut. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes out. Rough, warm hands skate along my inner thighs. “Eyes open, Margot.”
“So, what do I do?” Weird how I sound so breezy and confident when my insides are fluttering and churning.
“What do you mean?” He casually rests his palms on my legs, his thumbs tracing the crease of my thighs, sharpening my desire.
“To be good at receiving?” I ask, my heart jumping like a frog in a frying pan. It’s so embarrassing that I have to ask.
“Whatever feels good to you.”
“That’s not helpful.”
He blows out a frustrated breath, the air caressing my skin. “If it feels good, say so. If you like something say, ‘give me more.’” He flashes a wicked grin. “If it feels so good you can’t form any words, tug on my hair.” His expression smooths into something more serious. “If you don’t like something, tell me to stop. Or smack my head.”
My eyes widen in horror. “I’m not going to smack you.”
His lips quirk at the corners. “Just give me some signals.” His eyebrows dip like he just had a revelation. “There’s no wrong way to enjoy yourself, Margot.”
That message finally sinks in. I stare into his eyes and only find the desire to please. “Fifteen minutes?”
“You’re not setting a timer, are you?” Both exasperation and humor color the question.
I turn my head and glance at the small digital clock on my nightstand. “Nine-fifteen.”
“You won’t be able to form the words nine-thirty once I get my mouth on you,” he mutters, clearly seeing this as a challenge.