Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
His reaction spurs me on. I slip my finger lower, circling my entrance. “Do you want to finger-fuck my precious, Chase?”
“Absolutely, Cameron.” He nods vigorously. “I one million percent want to finger-fuck your precious.” He moves to stand between my thighs. “Can I kiss you first, though?”
“Okay.”
He releases his cock and cups my face between his warm palms. I push away the thought his penis hand is now resting against the side of my neck. His expression is intense as he leans in. He’s tentative at first, lips brushing gently over mine.
When I lick his top lip, he groans and tips his head, parting for me. Our tongues meet and tangle. I trail my fingers over the glorious dips and planes of his cut body. I’m making out with a hockey player. A really hot, well-endowed hockey player. This is a check mark on my bucket list.
I half expect him to be aggressive, but he’s completely the opposite. He’s soft, gentle, and sweet, our tongues brushing and exploring. As far as first kisses go, this is an award winner.
While we make out, I follow the line bisecting his abs past his navel. My fingertips brush the satin-smooth skin of his erection, causing him to groan and his fingers to tighten in my hair.
He breaks the kiss, his breath leaving him on a ragged pant as my fingers curve around his length. I feel like a damn goddess as his gaze drops.
“Ah fuck, that feels so good, Cameron.”
“Cammie, I go by Cammie.”
“Cammie, your hand is fucking bliss,” he declares.
Both of our gazes drop as I continue to stroke him, thumb sweeping over the head when I reach the crown.
His hand settles on my knee and slowly trails up. My breath catches as his fingertips brush my inner thigh. I’m still stroking him as he dips between my legs and skims my clit. He makes another needy noise as he drags his finger through my slit and circles my entrance.
Normally, reciprocal masturbation is fraught with awkwardness, especially with someone new, but this is just…hot. His mouth drops open, and his tongue peeks out as he eases a single finger inside me. I moan—at the look of desire on his gorgeous face, at the feel of his finger curling against that sensitive place inside me, at the heat of his cock in my hand.
His gaze lifts and a slow smile spreads across his very kissable lips. “Such a pretty precious.”
I wrap my free hand around the back of his neck and drag his mouth back to mine. This kiss isn’t soft and sweet like the first one. It’s fraught with lust and need. We keep kissing and touching. My hand moving over his cock in time with the pump and curl of his finger inside me. He adds a second, stretching me, filling me. We moan and pant, shift and grip and caress.
I break the kiss long enough to say, “One more finger, please.”
“You’re so tight, though. You’re sure?”
“My pussy can handle it,” I pant.
“Fuck, I love that,” he groans.
We both watch as his fingers slide out and he adds a third, pushing back in slowly. I let go of his hair, lick my index finger, and rub circles on my clit.
“That’s so fucking sexy. You’re so fucking sexy, Cammie,” Chase groans.
“So are you,” I murmur. “I’m getting close.”
“Yeah?” His eyes flare with excitement. “Tell me what you need so I can get you there.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I want this so badly. To come while he’s touching me, to have this experience as fodder for my self-gratification sessions. To be the girl who isn’t afraid to take what she wants.
He curls his fingers. “Like this?”
“That’s it. Right there. That’s the spot.” I keep stroking him and my clit while he rubs the spot from the inside. “Such a good boy,” I murmur.
I bite my lip, because I didn’t mean to say that last part aloud.
His smile turns devilish. “You gonna come all over my fingers, like a good girl, Cammie?”
And that’s it. I’m done for. I moan his name, long and loud as pleasure pulses through me in glorious waves. For a moment I lose my rhythm, too caught up in the sensation washing through me. But as soon as I have control over my limbs again, I tighten my grip and stroke him in earnest.
He grips the edge of the vanity, hips jerking as he angles his erection toward the sink and comes all over the marble.
I wait for the awkwardness to hit post-orgasm, or for him to get all weird about it, but he drops his forehead to my shoulder and turns until his nose brushes my neck and his lips follow. “That was so much fun.”
I laugh. “It absolutely was.”
“Wanna cuddle and try to get a little more sleep?”