Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
The vibrations start up again.
“Oh God, not again,” I whine as he grabs the sides of the tub with both hands and throws his head back with pleasure.
I blow out a deep breath, feeling not only that his knot is vibrating, but also that his legs are trembling. I look at his face. He’s feeling good. I’m just the sore one at this stage.
Wait… no…sensations are rising in me now, too. I grip the sides of the tub as well and while the sound of running water roars in my ears, I quickly lose myself in sensation and ride the wave. God, that’s intense. But just as soon as it slows, the revving of his knot intensifies, and my orgasm is piggybacked by an even bigger one. He stares at me, watching me unravel.
There’s an intensity in his eyes that I don’t have the capacity to decipher. I feel naked. Not just clothing-wise. Like he’s seeing something I don’t want him to see. We’re not in the dark. The bathroom is bright. And I’m so… exposed.
While we climax together in an eye-lock, longing overtakes me. Longing for him to want this; want me. For him to love me instead of loathe me. I cry out his name and he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in so our lips fuse together. He groans into my mouth, the sound branding me his. I’ll be forever his, even if he’s never, ever mine.
He's still gripping the back of my neck as the vibrations slow, and eventually stop.
The tub is very, very full, but I wait, holding my breath, wondering if the hot water will relax him enough that his knot lets me go.
He releases my neck and scoots forward abruptly, so he can reach around me to twist the taps off before he leans back, slicking his hair back with wet hands. He stares at the ceiling with an exasperated expression. Even though he just kissed me, which is an intimate thing to do. I’m a little confused and a lot hurt.
“Since we’re here, can I wash my hair, please?” I ask. “It’s kind of… everywhere.”
He tries to hand me a bottle without looking at me, but I say, “I’ll use this one, thanks.” Then I stretch to reach to the opposite corner and grab a salon quality bottle of shampoo instead of the bargain brand he has in his hand.
He sets the bottle down.
“Can you, uh… lean forward so I can wet my hair?” I ask, not wanting to break his dick, though maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’s made of supernaturally indestructible titanium-like material.
He leans forward so I can more easily lean back. I close my eyes and enjoy the heat of the water as I lay for a luxurious second without any outside stimuli. Of course not counting the inside stimuli of a large penis with a supernatural bulging knot lodged in me and the knowledge that he’s leaned forward, likely trying to look anywhere but at me.
I sit up and take a few minutes to lather up. And then I lean back a little and he gets the message as I lean back and submerge my hair again, scrubbing at it to get the foam out.
He’s not looking anywhere else. He’s watching me do this with what looks like a carnal expression. And then he flexes his pelvic muscles and I frown.
I’m feeling even more full.
Is it about to start again?
“Oh shit.” I sit up. “I think it’s about to happen again.”
He nods, face scrunching.
I brace.
He groans with pleasure.
I grab onto him and press my forehead in his throat. He grabs the length of my hair and holds on.
It’s a fast one, thankfully. But it’s another big one and I’m limp when he rises with me in his arms. My two unused towels from last night are here along with both piles of our clothes from yesterday, but before I reach for a towel, he’s got it and wrapping it around me. He grabs the second towel and moves us back to the bedroom.
I do my best to dry my upper body with the towel he gave me while my wet legs hold onto his wet skin. He sits on the bed, me straddling him and he gives up his efforts to dry himself out of frustration, I think, since he can’t easily reach his lower extremities, so before I tackle my hair, which I realize belatedly did not get a dose of conditioner, I shimmy the towel around his back.
Our eyes meet. But nothing is said. And his expression still holds so much hostility, so after drying him for a minute, I realize he doesn’t want this but isn’t saying anything, so I tug the towel up around my hair and squeeze the length within it.