Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
She comes a second time like that, face buried in the pillow, body shaking so hard the bed creaks.
Only then do I turn her back over.
I’m aching, cock so hard it’s leaking steadily onto her thigh, but I take my time lining up. I rub the head at her entrance, coating myself in her fresh slick, teasing her clit until she’s begging.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
Her eyes flutter open, dark and glassy.
I push in—inch by inch, slow and relentless—until I’m seated to the hilt. The stretch makes her gasp, walls rippling around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper. I stay there, buried deep, hips flush to hers, and just feel her. The heat. The perfect fit. The way her body trembles under mine.
Then I start to move.
Not the frantic rutting from outside. This is deep, rolling thrusts. I pull almost all the way out, then slide back in so slow she feels every vein, every ridge. Every fucking thing. I grind against her clit on every downstroke, watching her face the whole time. Her lips part on a silent cry, eyes locked on mine like she’s drowning and I’m the only air.
I lean down, forearms bracketing her head, and kiss her through every thrust. They’re deep, lazy kisses that match the pace of my hips. “You feel so fucking good,” I whisper against her mouth. “So tight. So wet for me. Taking me so perfectly.”
Her hands slide up my back, nails scoring my skin. “Harder—please—”
I give it to her, but still controlled. Deeper. Faster now, but never losing that grinding rhythm against her clit. Sweat slicks between us. The room fills with the wet slap of skin, her soft moans, my low groans. I hook one of her legs over my arm, opening her wider, and drive in harder, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
“Come for me again, baby. One more time. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
She shatters on the next thrust, crying out, walls clamping down so hard I see stars. I fuck her through it, drawing it out, then let myself go. Pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine, and explodes outward. I bury myself deep and come with a guttural groan, pulsing hot and endless inside her, filling her until it leaks out around us.
I collapse half on top of her, careful not to crush her, and bury my face in her neck. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close. Our hearts hammer against each other.
For a long time we just breathe.
I lift my head eventually, brushing damp hair from her face. “You okay?”
She smiles. It’s soft, sated, and radiant. “Better than okay.”
Guilt is still there, faint now, but it’s drowned out by something bigger. Something warm and certain that settles deep in my chest.
I kiss her again, slow and sweet. “Stay right here. I’m getting you water and something to eat. Then I’m doing all of that again.”
She laughs, the sound light and perfect, and pulls me back down for another kiss.
I’m never letting her go.
SEVENTEEN
SALEM
I lie here in the tangled sheets, my body still buzzing like a live wire even though Ozzy just finished fucking me slow and deep and perfect. My thighs are sticky with his cum and mine, my pussy still fluttering with little aftershocks every time I shift. The room smells like sex and sweat and the faint cedar of his skin, and I can’t stop touching myself—lazy circles around my swollen clit, two fingers sliding through the mess between my legs just to feel how open and used I am.
He’s watching me from the edge of the bed, eyes black with fresh hunger. “Fuck, Salem. Look at you playing with my cum like a dirty girl.” His voice is gravel-rough, already dropping into that filthy register that makes my insides melt. He leans down, kisses me hard, tongue fucking my mouth for a second before he pulls back. “Stay right there. Gonna get you cold water. Don’t you dare stop touching that pretty pussy while I’m gone.”
I whimper as he stands, completely naked, cock already thickening again, heavy and flushed. I watch his ass flex as he walks out, the muscles in his back shifting, and the second he disappears down the hall my fingers sink deeper. I’m so wet the sounds are obscene—wet, squelching, loud in the quiet house.
He’s gone maybe three minutes. I hear the fridge open, ice clinking into a glass, then cabinets. When he steps back into the bedroom doorway my breath catches.
He’s carrying a tall glass of ice water in one hand, condensation running down the sides like it’s already sweating for me. In the other hand—thick, pink, veined silicone. The dildo we got from the drive-thru. Eight solid inches, realistic head, thick shaft, balls at the base. We’d laughed about it then. Now he’s gripping it like he owns it. The lube packets are tucked in his hand.