Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I don’t want anyone else.
She strips off the bra and reaches for the heels.
“Keep them.” I catch her hand, linking our fingers by her head against the door. “Let’s fuck.”
“I have one request,” she says breathlessly.
“What?”
Her eyes drop between us and she licks her lips. “Can I suck your dick just a little bit first?”
Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. I look up to the heavens and offer a silent alleluia.
“You may,” I manage to grit out.
Our gazes tangle, and she pulls her hand free of mine, opens my belt, slides down my zipper, and pulls my pants and boxers down until my dick appears.
“Oh.” She sighs, holding me with one hand and caressing my balls with the other. “This is good. This is very good.”
The tip is already leaking and engorged. I’ve always been a man of few words and she’s talking too much. I push on the elegant curve of her shoulder, pressing her to the floor, to her knees. She takes me into the warm, wet world of her mouth, sucking me, licking up and down my shaft like I’m one of the ice cream push-ups she used to love.
The sight of this powerful woman on her knees, naked except for her costly shoes, devouring my cock, just about undoes me. Saliva spills from the sides of her mouth as she takes me so deep her throat closes around me. Sounds strangle in my throat. I close my eyes in brief, beautiful agony, but open them again because the sight of her doing this is too riveting. Her nipples brush against my legs. I imagine my tongue dragging from the top of her pussy and between the firm, naked globes of her ass. I want to spread her and eat until my tongue aches. When I see her hand moving between her legs, that’s it. I can’t take another second.
“Up. Now, Tru. Shit.” I groan, fitting my hands under her armpits and pulling her to her feet.
I push her fingers, wet with her juices, into my mouth. It’s ambrosial and I lick every trace of it away and bring her fingers to my nose.
“Fuck, you smell good.” I drop her hand abruptly and grip under her thighs, hoisting her up, aligning our bodies. “Dammit, condoms.”
“I’m…” She licks her lips and lowers her lashes. “I’m, um, protected, and clean.”
“Me, too. Can we?” When she looks up, a shadow in her eyes gives me pause. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Her smile chases the shadow away and she links her ankles at the base of my spine, rests her back against the wall and grips my neck. “You don’t need a condom. We’re good. Let’s do it now.”
Now.
Forever. Always. Never end.
I plunge inside and it’s a rhythm in my head echoing the rigor of our bodies. Her pussy contracts, squeezing my dick, and my reason, my thoughts scatter. The house could burn down around us as long as this door and the two of us were still standing and fucking against it.
My hands clench under her thighs, holding her in place while we grind together, crushing the desire between our bodies. I reach the end of her with a rough thrust. Her breath catches and her eyelashes flutter. I hit that spot again and again until her eyes roll back in her head and her arms fall away from my shoulders and she’s limp against the door, me supporting all of her weight while my thrusts grow more frantic, out of control. She bites her lip and tears roll down her face.
“Jesus, Ez,” she whispers, her lashes dampening on her wet cheeks.
The rush of her climax washes over me. I’m as deep as I can physically go and my body keeps searching for a hidden passage to get closer to her, to inhabit her the way, with every kiss and every thrust, she inhabits me.
“Kimba.” I shift so one arm holds under her butt and her back is supported by the door. With the other hand I lift her chin. “Look at me.”
She opens glazed eyes.
“Your number,” I rasp. “I don’t care about it. I don’t give a damn who you’ve been with. How many. Baby, I don’t give a fuck.”
Some of the haze clears, her gaze sharpens, focuses on me.
“But I want to be the last,” I tell her, letting her search my eyes, my face so she’ll see the truth I can’t hide from her anymore. “I couldn’t be the first, but I want to be the last. No one else. You understand what I’m saying?”
Another tear slides from the corner of one eye and down the sleek curve of her jaw. “I understand.”
And like a million times during our childhood, she hears the things I don’t say aloud. She reads between lines of invisible ink when no one else even knows I’m writing. It feels too soon to give it voice, but every part of me, body, soul, heart and spirit quakes with the inescapable truth I know she saw even though I didn’t say.