Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Finally, I burst, my back bowing, neck arching, hot tears rolling into my hairline, release flowing from me. He pulls my legs over his shoulders, taking my ass into his hands and spreading me open even more.
“You have to stop,” I beg, pressing my heels into his back, sobs wracking my body. “It’s too much.”
He ignores me, his hands running up and down my thighs with reverence, and he keeps licking and sucking. My arms rest on the bed limply, and my head lolls back and forth. I’ve never felt this spent from oral alone. When he finally lifts his head, he smiles at me, the clit clamp held between his strong white teeth.
“You’re crazy.” I breathe out a chuckle, reaching up to run my hand across his hair. He’s so damn beautiful. The most beautiful boy I’d ever seen has grown into a man I can’t take my eyes off.
He gently rolls me onto my stomach and deals with the hidden zip at the base of my dress, then peels the silky material away from my body. He cups my ass, rubbing it, and then I feel his lips, still damp with my release, kiss one cheek and then the other. Slowly, he rolls me onto my back again and tugs me into a sitting position. Still dressed and with his dick at my eye level, he begins removing the pins from my hair. Braids spill around my shoulders. I touch his erection, and he draws a harsh breath.
“Naz, don’t you want—”
“There’ll be time.”
“I want something for you, too, tonight.”
He bends to run his hand from my breast to the soaked juncture of my thighs, slipping the rough pad of his finger over my swollen clit.
“That was for me.” He smiles, but his eyes remain sober. “You’re for me. Do you wear a hair scarf to bed?”
“Um, yeah.” I nod to the bedside table where I stowed some of my things.
He brings it over and gives it to me. “Show me how you do it.”
I wrap the scarf around my braids like I do every night, my hands trembling under his intense scrutiny.
“Do you wash your face?”
“Yeah,” I say, standing, suddenly self-conscious that I’m naked and he’s not. I walk to the bathroom, feeling his eyes on my back and ass and legs. In the bathroom, he grabs a washcloth from the neat stack on the counter. After wetting it with warm water, he brings it to my pussy, gently cleaning me. My breath stutters, and my heart batters my chest from the inside at his tender touch, at the thorough way he uses the wipes on the counter to remove my makeup.
What is this?
Once he’s cleaned me up and removed my makeup, he leads me back to the bed, pulls the coverlet back, and gives me a gentle push into the coolness of the sheets.
Let me take care of you.
He said it when he was eating me out like a starved animal, but the way he’s actually doing it breaks something in me. Emotion swells inside. All the searching and settling over the years feel like a distant memory under his attention. All the times I wanted to feel special and got a dick pic instead, or got called a bitch by a strange man because I didn’t respond to his vulgar DM—those times fade because this was what I wanted all along.
To feel this special. This considered. This wanted and respected.
“Will you stay?” I ask, my voice low and a little shaky. The oral was fantastic, but this…this is something else.
“Do you want me to?”
Not trusting my voice with more words, I simply nod and watch as he removes his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in a chair in the corner. His body is like a machine, but warm and gleaming and taut, his muscles seemingly rippling in places other men never even had muscles. He crawls in behind me, pulling me close. My back is pressed into his wide, smooth chest. And though I feel him semi-erect against my backside through his briefs, he makes no move. When he tucks his head into the crook of my neck and lays a kiss there, I reach behind me and cup the back of his head. There’s no way two weeks will be enough. Not with this man. So many thoughts swirl in my head, and despite the jet lag and exhaustion, I’m staring into the dark unblinkingly, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
“Kira,” he says after a few minutes of easy silence, splaying his hand possessively over my belly. “Baby, go to sleep.”
And as if my body knows something I don’t, it obeys.
Chapter Twelve
Naz
I wake up alone to sunshine, fresh linen, and Takira’s scent all over me.
That woman will be end of me. I’m not an asshole. I’m considerate to the women I sleep with, sure. But to defer sex altogether and only ensure their pleasure?