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)
“Okay.” I settle my palms on his broad chest and slide them over his shoulders, linking my fingers behind his neck.
“Can I kiss you now?”
“On my face lips?”
He grins. “Seems like the most reasonable place to start.”
“Okay, then.”
I tip my chin up and close my eyes as he tips his down. I’m so nervous, and excited. I can’t believe I get to experience this first with the literal guy of my dreams.
His lips brush over mine, softly, sweetly. One hand slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head, his other winds around my waist, pulling me against him. He’s all hard lines and tight muscles and smooth skin. And the way he kisses me, like I’m something to be savored, makes my knees weak.
Eventually he pulls back, takes my hand, and guides me to the end of the bed. He fingers the sleeve that reaches my elbow. “Can I take some of this stuff off?”
“Probably a good idea.”
He carefully removes my shirt, brushing my hair over my shoulder after he drops it on the floor. I’m so thankful I didn’t wear a bra last night. His eyes lock on my boobs and he makes a deep sound in the back of his throat.
Chase drops to his knees. He’s an exceptionally tall guy, and I’m slightly below average height so his face is almost at boob level.
He tips his head back to look at me. “Can I touch your tatas?”
“Only if you never call them tatas again.”
“Never again.” He inhales deeply and raises his hands but stops just shy of cupping my breasts. He touches his cheek first. “Temperature check. Cold hands are the worst.”
“That’s the truth.”
He gently curves his huge palms around them. Then he does that thing that guys always seem compelled to do. He jiggles them a little and follows it up by brushing his thumbs over my nipples. “Fuck, your tits.”
“It’s probably more gratifying for you than me.”
His eyes shoot to mine. “I didn’t mean that literally, just that they’re amazing.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty attached to them.” Why am I making bad jokes when he’s holding my boobs and saying nice things about them?
His tongue drags across his bottom lip. “Can I kiss them?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” He kisses the swell first, eyes still on my face. And then he gently brushes his lips back and forth over the tight peak.
I run my fingers through his hair, enthralled and completely overwhelmed by how incredible it is to have this giant, hot hockey player on his knees in front of me, being gentle when his job on the ice is the opposite. His eyes flutter shut, and his tongue peeks out to tease the peak before his lips close over it. Warm, and wet, and soft.
All my needy body parts respond, my stomach tightening, heat flooding my center. Chase devotes the same attention to the other nipple. And then he pushes to his feet, hands sliding around to cup my ass as he lifts me off the floor like I weigh nothing.
I shriek and grip his shoulders as he spins around and lays me on the bed, then shifts to the right, turning us on our sides.
“That was exceptionally graceful,” I note.
“Thanks.” He kisses me again, hand still on my boob. It moves down my stomach, and he pops the button on my jeans. “This is still okay?”
“Definitely. Yes. No pants will make eating me out a lot easier.”
“Truth.” He drags the zipper down.
I get impatient and shove my pants and underwear over my hips, gracelessly kicking them off. Chase’s hand trails down my stomach. He doesn’t immediately go for the hot button and rub it like he’s expecting a genie to appear. Instead, he slides his hand between my thighs and cups me. “I’m so fucking excited to get real personal with your precious.”
I laugh and he smiles.
“Should we try out the scene you were writing? For research purposes, of course.” His eyes are alight with carnal desire.
“Sure. Yeah. Okay.” This is actually happening. I’m going to sit on Chase’s face. On purpose.
He rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down his muscular thighs. They’re ridiculous. His erection springs free, bobbing once before it smacks against his stomach.
He lies on his back and adjusts the pillow, then beckons me closer. “Bring that precious over here.”
“You don’t have to keep calling it that.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s part of the scene. Bring it hither.”
“Please never say hither again.”
“For the love of God, Cammie, put a desperate man out of his fucking misery, and sit on my face.”
Well, when he puts it that way… “Sir, yes, sir.” I straddle his head, feeling all kinds of exceptionally awkward as I try to keep my balance and not accidentally suffocate him with my vagina.
I brace my weight on one hand and grip his erection in my other. He groans and kneads my ass. Then gives the right cheek a smack.