Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
And then I put those fingers in my mouth. And sucked.
6
RILEY
Oh, my God. The feel of his wet tongue and the suction of his mouth on my fingers was the most erotic thing ever. I was wet, so, so wet for him. It was like my vagina had a leak or something because my thighs were coated.
My pussy ached, my clit literally throbbed with need for this man. Why? It was as if my libido had a switch that had been turned off until him. That the reason I hadn’t been into kissing Matt Hutchins in eleventh grade or making out with Ethan Zibarsky last year was because I’d had no interest. None. Like with Tyler, there’d been nothing. I never got achy or wet.
But one deep growly command from Cody McIntire, and I was sopping wet. Needy. God, I craved everything he talked about and more. Instantly, I pictured him silencing me with his dick in my mouth. With him licking my arousal from the source. Both possibilities, and others, worked for me.
I never, ever imagined I’d be turned on by a throat fuck, but then again, I never expected to literally drip for Tyler’s dad. That didn’t even include the fact that he chased me when I ran. That he came after me and caught me. I’d felt the steel beam in his pants as he held me against his body. All that was before he tied me to the bed.
Tied. Me. To. The Bed.
Clearly, I had a previously unknown kidnap kink. A capture kink. A need to be dominated. An older man fetish. A shifter need although I wasn’t going to think too much about that right now. The whole mate thing was mind boggling, but whatever. What… the fuck… ever because a hot, experienced man was sucking my pussy juices from my fingers. Should I let this go on? I’d told him I didn’t want to be fucked, and he knew I lied. Now he knew for sure because I was like a Slip and Slide down there, and I was writhing and moaning like a porn star. Just from my fingers in his mouth.
Was I insane for changing my mind? Was Cody that good? Of course, he was. He’d supposedly been with every available woman in town. No doubt they all responded to him the same way I was.
Did I care? Not if he kept up what he was doing. God, his mouth alone felt so insanely good. How he’d… get a taste from the source, and that meant I’d get an insane orgasm–with a guy. It’d happen, I’d know what it was like and then get on with my life. I may have wanted the picket fence lifestyle, but I was also realistic. Was his chase and mate thing one of his go-to moves? Was he saying his same-old, same-old lines? I had to remind myself I wasn’t going to get anything special with Cody because I was sure he said the same things to all the girls.
It was time I put on my big girl panties–or took them off–and reminded myself what this was. Fun. And a heck of a lot of kink.
People had sex after meeting at a bar. Or through a dating app. There were even ones just for hookups alone. Where people intended to fuck and forget, maybe not even share real names. Why couldn’t I do that now with a guy who I knew was safe? Okay, maybe safe-ish. Who wanted me. Who knew what he was doing. Who clearly, based on the impressive bulge, a big dick. He sure as heck had the energy to match.
I was nineteen. I wanted sex. Wanted to have a man-made orgasm. Wanted to know what it was like. Maybe Cody was right, that Matt and Ethan and Tyler were boys.
Watching Cody lick clean my fingers was so carnal. Seeing the rope around the wrist he held reminded me I didn’t have a choice. No, I did. He wasn’t going to do anything without my consent. He’d said that. Except those words and the rope were contradictions. The fact that he wasn’t going to take what wasn’t freely offered even though I was tied to his bed was reassuring. Liberating.
He wanted to do all kinds of filthy things to me, and I had a choice. I could go with what made me hot and pretend he wasn’t giving me one. That I really was captured, that I really was bound to a bed to slake his needs.
Holy shit, that was hot. This was probably a bad idea, but it was a bad idea with orgasms. He’d figure out I wasn’t his mate or say just kidding! or whatever, and I’d be back in the college dating pool with my V-card punched and realistic expectations of future lovers. Why lose it with a little fumbling and awkwardness when I could have… holy hell… THIS.