Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“Now you,” she said firmly. I didn’t argue as she opened my fly and pushed down my pants and underwear. My cock sprang free, my tip coated with pre-cum.
“Do you want me to—”
“Use your hands,” I gritted out. I was teetering on the edge of control. If I fucked Greta’s mouth today, I’d probably lose my mind and fuck her pussy too, or spill my cum the second her lips touched my cock because I was so fucking horny.
I curled my fingers around the base of Amo’s erection or as far as they would go. He was very long and thick, making me wonder how he’d fit inside of me. His fingers were long and thick for fingers too, which wasn’t a surprise considering his tall frame, but his erection was on another level. I knew it would fit somehow. It was physically meant to fit, at least in general.
My thoughts quieted at the first low moan from Amo’s lips. I loved the sound. I stroked up and down his silky length, brushing my thumb over the tip. I loved exploring him.
Soon Amo began pumping his hips and his hand closed over mine, increasing the pressure. I locked gazes with him, and sucked in a deep breath at the look of lust and possessiveness on his face. Both took hold of me and sank into my heart.
When Amo came with a shudder and groan, and kissed me harshly, I couldn’t help but smile happily against his lips. Amo chuckled. I glanced up, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. He kissed the tip of my nose, surprising me, and stepped back. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m starving.”
“Again?” I asked.
He laughed, a real, deep laugh that filled my insides with butterflies. Though I’d always found the term very disturbing. The idea that any kind of animal took habitat inside of me didn’t really conjure up pleasant images. I wished I’d known who’d thought coming up with a phrase like that was a good idea. “This time I mean food.”
“Oh,” I said, almost a little disappointed.
Amo shook his head, pushed between my legs again and kissed me hard. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat you right after the sandwiches.”
After cleaning up the proof of our activities, Amo and I returned to the kitchen. Bear watched me almost reproachfully. As if I was betraying him by letting a stranger in. Dotty was curled up against him. He hardly ever left her side anymore.
I reached for my checkered shirt but Amo held out his white dress shirt. “Take it.”
He helped me put it on. “I like you in my shirt. I still remember the basement.”
“Me too,” I said as I closed a button over my chest, but not the rest. Then I grabbed the plate with sandwiches and the salad bowl and put it down on the table. “The cutlery and plates are over there.” I motioned at the cupboard beside Amo.
He glanced at it surprised, as if he had never set a table in his life, which was probably the truth. Still, he bent down and picked out two plates and forks before he walked over to me and sank down on the bench. I took a place beside him so our legs were touching. Amo hadn’t bothered putting on anything but boxers and I enjoyed the sight of him half-naked.
He grabbed a sandwich and bit more than half of it off, before he finished the rest with another bite. I blinked. I’d prepared four sandwiches, now I wondered if that would be enough. “It’s hummus and roasted tomato chutney,” I explained.
Amo nodded appreciatively and finished a second sandwich. He glanced at me. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”
“You can eat first. I ate before you came.”
He shook his head with a frown and held out a sandwich to me. Instead of taking it from him, I bit off a chunk and smiled. Then I filled my plate with salad, and watched Amo devour the remaining sandwiches.
“I didn’t think you’d be this excited about my vegan sandwiches.”
“I’m not a picky eater when I’m starving.”
He grimaced and swallowed the last bite. “That came out wrong. Your food is delicious.”
I shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard every possible insult about vegan food you can think of. I don’t think you can say worse.”
“Living in the Falcone household as a vegan must be hard.”
I knew he meant it in a teasing way but there was underlying tension in his tone and I felt protective. “I like being a Falcone.”
“I’d prefer you as a Vitiello.”
We both fell silent. I scraped my fork over the plate and speared a single kale piece then brought it to my mouth, biding time.
“Ignore what I said,” he gritted out. He leaned back and angled his body toward me, his eyes taking me in.
“Do you want to go to bed?” I asked.