Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Yes,” she moans, “right there . . . and lick me fast.”
Loving how bold she is, I thrust in again, keeping my fingertip where she wants it as I flutter my tongue over her clit. “Oh, oh, oh!” Her keening cries get higher-pitched and louder, and I can feel the tension throughout her body as she rides the edge. And then she shudders violently and groans, “Chance . . .”
I keep going, giving her as much pleasure as I can, wanting her to be satisfied. I feel like she needs this almost as much as I do. Especially after the highs and lows of her day.
“You,” she says clearly. “I want you inside me.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice because I’m on the verge of coming in my slacks as it is. Making fast work of the buttons, I pull my shirt off and then do the same speed trick with my belt and slacks. Over my boxer briefs, I give myself a firm stroke, hoping to stave off a too-quick release. I want to enjoy this . . . enjoy Sam wrapped around my dick.
“Condom’s in my purse,” she offers, pointing to her bag. I raise one brow, remembering what else is in her bag. She smiles, amused. “Different bag.”
I grab her purse, letting her dig inside. Partly because I don’t trust that there’s not a single dildo inside and I don’t want to give it a hand job and partly because I know better than to invade a woman’s bag. That’s a crime punishable by death.
While she finds it, I push my underwear down to give my dick a few more slow, tight strokes. The skin on skin of my hand is all-too-familiar, and I want more. I want her.
“Got it!” she exclaims, holding up a foil packet. “You want to put it on or want me to do it?”
I reach for the condom. “I’ve got it because if you touch me, I’m gonna explode.”
She grins and watches as I unroll the latex over my length and line up at her entrance, holding steady and not breaching her yet. “Sam?”
She nods, her white teeth digging into her bottom lip and her dark eyes pleading silently. I push forward, slowly filling her inch by inch as she envelops me. Pulling me down, she takes my weight as I press her to the chaise. She’s pinned beneath me, impaled on me.
Neither of us says a word, but we simultaneously begin bucking, chasing our pleasure. Our eyes lock for a moment, but then Sam’s roll back and I can’t focus beyond the sensations coursing through my body. I thrust fast, hard, deep, and occasionally, I stay there to grind against her.
Too soon, I’m walking a razor’s edge and I know my release is imminent and won’t be staved off for much longer. I find a rhythm we both like and stay steady, letting it build between us.
I interweave our fingers, holding them above Sam’s head, and she lifts her chin, jutting it out almost in challenge. Daring me to come or seeing if I can fight it off, I’m not sure which. But I win, coming suddenly with a force that starts deep in my belly. I can feel jet after jet of cum filling the condom and have an errant thought that I wish I were bare inside her, filling her with my cum. I jerk once more and then collapse, panting heavily.
Samantha
Chance snuggles up on the chaise with me, our arms and legs a tangle and heads perched side by side on the chair’s pillow as we recover. That was . . . wow. He’s different from how I thought he’d be. I guess I thought he’d be bossy, domineering, and out for his own. Probably a shitty assumption on my part, but the whole big man on campus vibe of Chance leading the club meeting today is stuck in my mind.
But instead, he was attentive, listened to me, and definitely focused on my satisfaction. I don’t know when I’ve felt more cherished and appreciated, at least physically.
“Wow,” I mutter, and Chance smiles victoriously. Half drowsy and blissed out, I say philosophically, “Did you know sex is so much more than most people think? It’s a whole spectrum of activities, styles, and things that bring people pleasure.”
Chance’s smile falls by degrees to be replaced by a frown. One brow lifted in question, he carefully asks, “Are you saying that wasn’t pleasurable? Because you were making sounds to the contrary.”
Shit, I’ve hurt his feelings unintentionally because that’s not what I meant at all. “That was amazing,” I rush to reassure him. “I meant that people like all sorts of things. Kinks, fetishes, sweet and gentle, humiliating and brutal, and everywhere in between.”
“Is this your roundabout way of telling me you have a foot fetish?” he says dryly, but I can see the light in his blue eyes as he realizes I’m not talking shit about his bedroom skills.