Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Dinner isn’t completely anxiety free. I only end up eating a quarter of my calzone and barely taste any of it. What we’re hopefully going to do afterward has me bubbling over with excitement and a bit of fear. It should be my turn to go down on him.
I’m going to suck—ha!—at it and need a lot of instruction. Shame beats against me. He’s probably had, I don’t even want to think of how many women, do this for him who knew what they were doing. How’s he supposed to relax and actually enjoy it if he has to stop and give me pointers every few seconds?
“You’re not hungry?” he asks.
“I am.” I slant a look at him. “For something off-menu.”
He drops the half-eaten slice of pizza on his plate, grabs his drink and takes a long swallow. “Let’s go.”
Giddy and a little nervous, I take his hand and lead him into my bedroom. He closes the door behind us, then uses his bigger body to press me against the wall.
“What do you want tonight?” he asks, staring down at me.
“To make you feel good.”
“I always feel good around you. What else?”
I blink, letting his first statement sink in. “I want to learn how to make you come with my mouth.” I stick my tongue out at him in case that wasn’t clear enough.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to put that fucking tongue to work.” He tilts my head and seals his lips over mine. Our tongues clash and slide together. He snakes his hand under my shirt and pulls it up over my head, unhooking my bra before I’ve caught my breath.
I work at his belt buckle but still can’t figure it out. His lips curl with amusement and he finally takes over. As soon as it’s out of my way, I unbutton his jeans and carefully tug his zipper down. He strips his jeans off and kicks them toward my bed.
“Please?” I slide my hand under his T-shirt.
He stares at me for a long moment, then grips my shoulders and turns us so he’s the one leaning against the wall. “Pants off.” He nods to me.
I quickly shimmy out of them and fall to my knees. Like I stumbled into the sexiest underwear commercial ever, he crosses his arms and grips the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging it up and over his head.
Dear lord, he’s a perfect masterpiece of muscle and tattooed skin. I kneel up and slide my fingertips over ridges of defined muscle then trace the strip of hair that runs from his belly button underneath his boxer-briefs. His stomach muscles flex and ripple quicker as my finger stops at the waistband.
“I’ll have to do this more than once, you know.” I slide my hands over his thighs—so firm and strong.
“Yeah?” He reaches down and cups my chin, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip. “Why’s that?”
“Once to train me—”
A sharp scowl crosses his face. “You’re not a dog.”
“To teach me how to do it right,” I continue. “And then again so you can actually enjoy it.”
His eyes close for a second. “Margot, please believe me when I say, if your mouth is wrapped around my cock, I’m going to be enjoying the fuck out of it.”
“Oh.”
“You’re overthinking this.” He cups my face, gently caressing my cheek. “Unless you try to bite my dick off, there really isn’t a wrong way.”
I blink, unsure of how to respond to that or the image his words bring to mind.
“Go ahead.” His eyes darken as I curl my fingers under the waistband and tug his boxer-briefs.
Impatient or wanting to demonstrate, he pushes the briefs down and withdraws his hard length. Up close like this, he seems bigger, more of a challenge. My mouth waters and I yank his briefs all the way down his legs.
“Something about them offend you?” he asks, wrapping his fingers around himself and slowly stroking up and down.
“I want to admire your legs.” I lean in and brush a kiss against the inside of his knee, then higher.
His body trembles as I slowly kiss my way to him. He’s watching me with an unreadable expression that makes my stomach lurch.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask. He kissed and teased my legs and I loved it. Maybe men don’t like that.
“Not at all.” He reaches for me. “Come here.”
“But.” I tease the tip of my tongue against the head of his cock. “I’m right here and you’re—”
“Not like this. Come here,” he says in a firmer tone.
“But I thought that’s what men prefer.”
He squeezes his eyes closed for a second. “Some do. I don’t. I told you you’ll have to ask…communicate. . .come here.” Frustration burns through his command.
I take his hand and he yanks me up and into his arms. Unable to help myself, I wrap my hand around his cock, stroking him.