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)
And fuck, do I like him.
There’s a saying about men liking a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets. I think the same holds true for me. Chance is a gentleman in public and a monster in private. I have a tiny seed of pride that I helped him find that part of himself.
“You want me to treat you . . . like a slut?” he asks gruffly. The word’s not natural to him, but I see the way he licks his lips after, like he’s tasting it, testing it to see how delicious it is.
I nod like a bobble-head. “Claim me, possess me, take me. Fuck my cunt with your big cock like I’m your slut.”
It’s more dirty talk than I’ve done before too, but it’s turning me inside out as much as it is Chance. I’ll examine why that is later, but right now, I want to see what Chance is going to do, feel what my body can handle, and explore new territory with him.
He shoves my chest back to the couch, gathering my arms behind my lower back to pin my wrists in one hand. I hear him spit on my ass and then feel his thumb swiping through it. “Gonna fuck this pussy with my thumb in your ass, Samantha. If you don’t want that, you’d better tell me right the fuck now.”
His thumb dips between my cheeks, swirling over my rosebud, and instead of stopping him, I say, “Do it.”
His thumb pops through my tight knot easily. I’m so aroused, I think he could shove his cock inside my ass and I’d take it with no problem, so his thumb is nothing. Except when he starts riding me hard and fast, his dick slamming into me so deep that it scoots me up the couch, and with his thumb pumping in and out, it’s everything.
I hang on as long as I can, wanting this edging to go on forever.
“You gonna come for me?” Chance pants, the words forced out in favor of breathing.
I nod senselessly, lost to the pleasure he’s piling on my body as I’m forced to lie here and take it, unable to move my legs, my hips, my arms. But he’s not using me like a fuck toy. No, he’s giving as much as he’s taking.
“Do it,” he says, repeating the permission I gave him only moments ago.
It’s all I need to fly apart. The room, the couch, even Chance disappear as I fall into a black void of ecstasy. Somewhere through the roaring in my ears, I hear Chance tell me, “Use that cunt to squeeze me like a good girl.” And I do, wanting to please him, wanting make him feel as good as I feel.
“Fuck!” he grits out, spasming as he fills me over and over. I know he’s wearing a condom, but the fantasy of him painting my pussy with his cum is filthy and sexy, and another, smaller aftershock orgasm rocks through me at the thought.
Sometime later—maybe a minute, maybe an hour, I have no idea—I come back to awareness. I’m fully flopped on the couch, one arm dangling toward the floor, the other balled up beneath my chest, with my legs relaxed. Chance is panting hard, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades as he tries to catch his breath.
“Holy shit, Samantha,” he mutters after he forces deep, shuddering breaths through his powerful chest.
Face still pressed to a couch pillow, I smile. “I don’t think I’m Samantha anymore. Just Chance’s cum slut . . . that’s it . . . because . . . Wow.”
A tiny laugh shakes me, and Chance pushes deep inside me. Though he’s soft after that back-blowing orgasm, I don’t want him out of me yet, either.
I sense his smile. “Should I remind you of that later when your sanity returns?”
He’s hilarious. Because that’s not who I am, and anyone who suggested as much would enter the find-out phase of the fuck-around-and-find-out process. But right now, it’s the truth. I just want to lie here and luxuriate in what we’ve done.
“Only if you want me to remind you that you commanded me to use my cunt to squeeze your cock like a good girl,” I tease as I look over my shoulder to catch his reaction.
Dirty talk is a strange thing. In the middle of sex, it’s the hottest thing ever and crazy things will make you have a damn-near instant orgasm. But seconds later, when the haze clears, it sounds like a cringe-worthy PornHub script written by high school boys.
Chance laughs a little before more seriously asking, “You okay? Your knee? Your . . . the rest of you?”
I couldn’t even tell you if I have knees right now, but I answer, “Yeah, I’m okay. You?”
He shifts on top of me, holding his weight up on his knees. “Other than needing a shower and food, I’m awesome.” He pops my right ass cheek with a playful swat that sounds worse than it feels. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and then I’ll make us some dinner.”