Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Come on, come on,” I breathe, my palms becoming sweaty, my heart battering against my chest in anticipation. There’s only one way to end what has been a monumentally shitty day.
As soon as the doors open, I get us in, turn us around, and the moment we meet in the middle, I’m pushing my body into hers, getting her up against the wall. I raise my knee and gently brush it across her front, enjoying the heat of her breath on my face.
“You’ve upset the concierge.”
“Damn.” She just gets the word out before I smash my mouth onto hers, grinding myself onto her in an attempt to relieve the painful throb. It doesn’t work. Fuck me, I want to spin her, bend her, and fuck her hard.
“Why aren’t you wearing a dress?”
She returns my kiss, her mouth hungry, her tongue keen. “I’m running out of dresses.”
“Tomorrow, we buy only dresses.”
“Tomorrow, we buy one dress,” she counters, working my belt. I pull back, my desperation advancing into a whole new, knee-trembling territory. Her hand brushes over my cock, and I suppress a groan, naturally pulling away from the friction. The torture. But being drawn to it too. I can do no more than stand still as she licks my bottom lip, mesmerized, every nerve I have buzzing, every drop of blood white-hot, every hair on my body standing on end. And when her hot palm wraps around my girth, I jolt and slam my eyes closed, trying to focus on breathing before I pass out.
“Mouth,” I whisper, pretty much signing my death sentence with that one word. The heat of her breath subsides, and I press my hands into the wall, opening my eyes to watch her fall to her knees before me. That sight alone could make me shoot my load on the spot, but my desire retreats when I realize she’s not admiring my dick. She’s not anticipating the taste of me. She’s not considering licking up the bead of pre-cum that’s leaking from the tip.
No. She’s looking at the gruesome, jagged scar on my abdomen. “What are you waiting for?” I roll my hips forward, regretting the scorn in my tone, not even my throatiness masking it, but I’m in no position to rectify it. She realigns her attention. Takes a stronger hold of my cock. And licks me.
My body folds, shaking, my breathing going to shit. The urge to close my eyes overcomes me, but I resist, watching Ava’s tongue work me, her hand thrusting gently, her head moving slowly.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper, spasming when the sensation of her tongue meets my balls. Shit. She continues her trail down the base all the way to the very end. “All the way, Ava,” I order, seeing the doors sliding closed. I hadn’t even realized they’d opened.
Absorbed.
I let go of the wall and hit the button to keep the elevator on the top floor, my hips beginning to shake, the effort not to drive myself into her mouth too much, as she laps and licks, peeking up at me every now and then, not looking for approval. She doesn’t need it. She just wants to see the state of me. What she does to me. I come from a land where pleasure rules. The Manor is full of men and women who love to give and receive it. They’re experts. Ava isn’t experienced in pleasure like I know it. And yet it seems she is an expert at delivering it. I wonder if that’s what she’s thinking. If after today, finding Sarah on my desk, concluding right about me and her, hearing about Freja, Ava feels she needs to mark her territory. Ensure my mind never strays from her.
She suddenly plunges me into her mouth, and I yell out, taking the back of her head, pushing against her advances, losing my fucking mind. I can’t hold back anymore, my hips doing as they damn well please, and they want to thrust, over and over, in and out, my face tight, my arms rigid, my legs struggling to hold me up. Blood rushes up through my body into my head, making me dizzy, my vision distorted. Fuck, I’m going to come so hard.
I look down at my big hands encasing her head. At my dick disappearing into her mouth. At her closed eyes. Her flushed cheeks. Her dark, still-damp hair tumbling everywhere.
Her nails stab into my arse. “Harder,” I grate, feeling them sink deeper into my flesh. “Oh, fuck.” The sensations come on strong, the vibration in my dick, the pounding blood. Then the glorious feeling of her small hand stroking my balls. Oh God. And then she grips me hard and my legs give, forcing me to hold the wall. “Holy shit.” My other hand automatically goes to my cock and takes hold. I need to see her face. All of it. “Keep hold and open your mouth,” I order, thrusting my hand hard and fast, watching her watching me, her eyes drowsy, her skin damp. I hold my breath, chasing the end, tensing everywhere, feeling like any number of blood vessels could burst at any moment. I’m becoming urgent. Panicked. I’m on the edge of release, tinkering there, pleasure teasing me, my balls swelling in her tight hold. And like a boulder, it crashes into me. I clumsily guide my dick to her mouth and watch as it surges, pouring into her and, fuck me, she gulps it down. My lungs scream, and I release my breath, feeling my body deflate, my hand instinctively slowing to a calmer pace. Good God, I’m broken. I pant down at her, my eyes following her hand to mine and watching as she follows my measured, gentle strokes as she continues to lap and lick and swallow.