Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“When you were helping me clean up after the llamas. I kept thinking this guy is fine,” I say, remembering how handsome he was then.
“You have no idea what that does to me,” he says with a groan as he tugs me tighter against him.
Well, I think I do know. It excites me.
He kisses me more urgently now, like my confession revved him up another level. Like he can’t hold back anymore today. I’ve been terrible at holding back too. Restraint, evidently, is for other people. Corbin’s still gripping my wrists and the paddle, and that seems wholly unimportant so I drop it to the court.
“I wanted to, Mabel. So badly. Then I learned you were—”
I know where that’s going. He learned I’m his best friend’s sister. I learned he was forbidden too, in lots of ways back then. “Same. You were off-limits to me too,” I say, my eyes fluttering closed, my body melting like butter on a warm day.
“But now.” His hand reaches for mine, and he threads our fingers together. “Now I just…” He sounds as lost to whatever this is as I am.
And I am utterly lost, so I wiggle free, spin around, cup his shoulders, and say, “My turn.”
“For what?” he asks.
I glance around, making sure it’s still just us, then I push him toward the edge of the court, near the hedges. A few strands have fallen out of my ponytail, so I undo it, then redo it, giving him a sly smile when it’s fixed. “My turn to apologize. Good thing I have this scrunchie to hold my hair back.”
His eyes widen. A thrill flickers in them. Then dirty, filthy hope as I drop down to my knees.
“Wait,” he snaps.
I arch a brow in question, but he’s already stripping off his T-shirt—of course—and setting it down on the court for me to kneel on.
“The filthy gentleman,” I muse, as I settle in on the gray cotton.
“I am. And now I’ll ask you the question like a gentleman. You going to apologize with that pretty mouth of yours?”
“I am. It’ll be a very deep, full-throated apology.”
He grabs the side of my face, stares hotly at me, then ropes his fingers through my hair once more. “Open wide, then.”
I tug on the waistband of his basketball shorts. “Give me that big dick so I can.”
With a groan that seems to rumble all the way up his chest, he pushes down his shorts, frees his cock, and wraps a fist around the base, offering his cock to me like a gift I ought to be grateful for.
I am. I’m so grateful my panties are wet.
Nope. Make that wetter. Just like his dick, with a drop of liquid arousal beading at the tip. Leaning in, I dart out the tip of my tongue, flick it across it, then moan, murmuring, “More.”
Giving a small pump of his hips, he thrusts a little deeper, offering me another inch. Grabbing his hips, I wrap my lips around his shaft. I draw him in, sucking on the crown, then more, then as much as I can. Soon I’m lavishing attention up and down him with my tongue. I’m making a mess of his cock, licking him sloppily, wrapping my hand around him and drawing him deeper. So deep that I bat his hand away from the base. He’s mine right now, and I want all of him.
“Fuck, baby. You look so fucking beautiful like this. So fucking perfect on your knees.”
My pulse beats hot and fast between my thighs.
He grips my head harder. Ropes his fingers in my hair that’s getting messier. “This scrunchie is so fucking helpful,” he mutters.
With my fingers digging into his skin, I urge him to pump his hips. He obeys, and I relax my throat as best I can. Somehow, I drag him in deeper, caressing his cock with my mouth, letting him hit the back of my throat.
I gag. Coughing. Letting him drop from my mouth.
“You okay? Want me to stop?”
I grab his hips harder, digging my nails into his flesh. “You’d better apologize for saying that.”
He runs a big hand over my hair. “Yeah? How do you want me to say sorry?”
“By filling my throat with your come,” I tell him.
The sound that rips from his chest is animalistic. I draw his wet cock back into my mouth, inhaling him, it seems. He fills my mouth, so there’s hardly room for me to breathe, but I don’t care.
He’s groaning, grunting, thrusting. And swearing so damn much.
So fucking beautiful.
Yes, fuck yes, do that.
I can’t fucking take it.
But I can. I can take it all, and he gives it all in one deep thrust as he jerks, shudders, and comes down my throat. I swallow it all, savoring the taste of my business partner and pickleball coach out here on the court.