Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
My body’s trembling too hard to laugh again, but I manage a gasping sort of snort. “Aren’t you full of yourself?”
“You’ll be full of me, too, Abbie girl.” His mouth skims higher; his hand slides up my other thigh, using his elbow now to hold me open. With no hesitation, he slicks his thumb up my slit and over my clit, forcing me to bite my lip against the desperate mewling sound that I almost make. His thumb returns to my entrance and gently presses his way in. “You saw my cock. You know what you’ll be trying to take into this little hole. I know I should go easy with a pussy so sweet. But I don’t think I’ll be holding back.”
“You won’t need to.” I hope he doesn’t even try to. “It’s not my first rodeo, rough rider. And a funny thing about vaginas: they bounce back.”
“Thank fuck for that. And for this sweet, resilient little pussy.” Abruptly he spreads me with his fingers and dives in for a hot, swirling lick. Then another. He has to hold me down when I writhe upward, biting the back of my hand, feeling nothing but the rough and the slick of his tongue.
He pauses, looking up at me. I can almost breathe. Then a suckling kiss to my clit rips away all the air and I’m gasping, flailing.
Until he pauses again.
Testing. Or teasing. I’m not sure which, but he’s murdering me.
“Reed.” I pant his name.
“Hmm?” he hums, rubbing his thumb over my clit, his tongue slipping down to my entrance.
“I need to come. Please. Save the torture for round two.”
And, oh god. Because it turns out that Reed eats pussy just like he kisses. As if it’s the most important thing he’ll ever do. As if there’s nothing in the world he enjoys more. His fingers push deep and his mouth covers my clitoris, taking me over inside and out with each lick, each thrust, each time he sucks on my clit and flicks his tongue. My last surviving brain cell remembers that I can’t fist my hands in his hair and rub my cunt all over his face so instead I rip at the blankets under me, making gurgling noises in my throat that probably aren’t normally made by anyone living. Then Reed groans, as if he loves what he’s doing to me (god help me, I love it, too), and his fingers bend and his knuckles rub in just the right spot, and he does another of those swirling kisses. I come like some crazed feral creature, clawing the blankets and wailing his name (not James, what an absolute fool that woman was.) When my convulsions stop, I ease back down—gasping, maybe crying a little, covering my face with my hands and trying to recover. But Reed doesn’t make it easy, spreading me wide again and slowly licking me up, then placing a gentle kiss against my still-quivering belly.
“So fucking beautiful, Abbie. You taste so damn good. If I go down,” he scoffs at the memory, then kisses higher, higher. “I’m going to do that again and again.”
My head turns to the side and I notice Hot Biscuit Slim, curled up and sleeping at the end of the bed. As if the most cataclysmic orgasm in the history of humanity hadn’t just taken place three feet away from him.
How could he sleep through that?
Then I forget my cat, because Reed’s kisses reach my breastbone. The single brain cell I have left remembers that I can touch his shoulders, his chest. So I do as he rises over me, scraping my fingers through the hair covering his pecs, dragging my nails down his sides, glorying in the solidity of him, the warmth.
He kisses me slow and deep before putting his mouth to my ear. “You want to be fucked, Abbie girl? Want me to fill up the hot little cunt that I just made wet enough to take me?”
My reply is a frantic nod as I bring his mouth to mine again. And his strength is really something ridiculous, because while kissing he casually picks me up and deposits me in the center of the bed. He only draws back to shuck his pajamas—oh my, he’s a show-er and a grow-er. Long and almost obscenely thick, more meaty than veiny.
I’m not at all upset about that.
He rips open the condom packet and carefully rolls it on.
“Does it look all right?” Please, Santa, let it be all right.
“All good so far.”
That applies to more than just the rubber. “Credit where it’s due—you are exceeding yesterday’s anticipation. No disappointment yet.”
“Told you I’d prove you wrong.” He grins when I huff, then crawls up over me, hooking my right leg over his left elbow as he goes. “You okay like this?”
“I’m flexible,” I tell him breathlessly, my anticipation cranking up to high again as he settles between my thighs. My teeth dig into my bottom lip when he takes his shaft in hand and furrows the broad tip through the folds of my pussy, lodging against my entrance.