Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I bring my face close to his groin, my other hand bracing by curling around to grasp his ass. I breathe him in deeply, stroking my hand down his length. The tip of his cock looks like how I feel. Swollen, painful, and seriously needy. I tip my face up and look into his. The storm of emotion there, the immediate way his features soften, the slight blush on his cheekbones, the dimple that appears as he smiles slowly but deeply—all of it speaks safety to me. It doesn’t matter if I’m bad at this. He’s going to enjoy the hell out of it because it’s me. It’s the most intimate thing two people can do for each other. Be naked and vulnerable and let someone else have control of your body to please you. In my case, I had no idea half the things Wilder did to me last time were even possible.
I want more of it. More discovery with him, more safety, more homecoming, more of a perfect fit, and more surprises. We’re the last thing we ever thought could work, but I want it to.
I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even in all the past iterations of my wanting him. None of it compares to this moment right now. This one is real. We’re real. We’re genuine. We’re true. We both might have to fight like hell to make it work, but I’m no longer afraid. I’ll make it work. End of. It’s just him and me right now. It hasn’t always been, and maybe it won’t always be, but we have this moment and all the other moments we care to create, and that’s more than enough.
Chapter fourteen
Wilder
“You’re not wearing any underwear again,” Carissa whispers from down on her knees, her face tipped back, her hair spilling over her shoulder, and her eyes blown wide. “Have you developed an aversion to them?”
She holds the base of my cock so gently. Even when she strokes up the length of me with her hand clenched tight, she’s still careful. Not tentative. Almost… reverent.
“I like the irony of not wearing them.”
“How is going without underwear ironic?”
“It’s unexpected.”
Her lips twitch. “It’s starting to not be.”
“That’s the irony, I suppose.”
I adore her snort laugh. I’m enthralled by so many things about her. I keep asking myself how I failed to notice them before. I suppose it makes them that much more meaningful now.
She’s never looked at me like she does now, her eyes full of trust and hope. They’re so big, her lashes so thick when she turns her face down and studies my cock. She parts her lips, and her tongue peeks out as she bends forward and licks my tip. It’s not exactly nice-looking at the moment, not when it’s so swollen and red, practically pulsing in her hand, and glistening down my crown and half the length of me. I was soaking these pants before she even pulled me out. As soon as I tasted her sweet mouth, I was finished.
I’m just about finished 2.0 as Carissa laps at my head and runs her tongue down my shaft. She follows the motion with her hand until she gets to my pants. She doesn’t stop. She reaches in and cups my balls, squeezing them while she wraps her lips around the tip of my cock and starts to suck me.
A shiver rocks me, starting at the base of my spine. My balls draw up even though they’re in her hand, and my dick throbs in her other palm.
“Mmm,” she hums after rolling her tongue over my head and sucking me so sweetly that I see stars. “I love how you taste.”
I don’t mean to push into her mouth, but my hips flex forward all on their own. “Shit,” I groan, jerking back. “Sorry.”
She pops me out of her mouth but tightens her palm on my shaft. “Don’t be sorry. I liked it.”
That just about tops the list of things that make me want to spontaneously blow my load.
She purposefully guides me back to her mouth, looking up at me the entire time. Opening wide, she takes my cockhead right to her tongue, closes her mouth around me, and sucks me with enough force that my legs just about buckle. I throw a hand out against the couch so I can stay on the right side of vertical.
She pumps her head back and forth, taking me deeper and deeper and fucking me with her mouth. Then, she takes my hand and guides it to her hair. If she wants me to use her rough, there’s no way I’ll do that, but I do twine my fingers through the soft strands.
She glides her mouth over me in a steady motion, taking more of me than should be possible. I make some sounds I’ve never heard myself make when I bump against the back of her throat, and she swallows quickly to keep from gagging. She changes up the rhythm, pulling back slowly and then pushing forward, nearly choking herself before pulling back again. And this time, she takes me so agonizingly slowly that when she squeezes my balls in tandem, I’m sure there’s going to have to be a frantic withdrawing and trying to aim at some part of her that is more respectful than her face.