Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“You just about fucked up,” I say, chuckling.
“I was trying to.” She giggles. “I wanted to feel you blow it in my mouth.”
My blood runs hot. “Keep talking like that, and you might get your wish.”
I rip open the condom and roll it down my length, then I grab the quilt and throw it on the ground. Quickly, I double it to give it a bit of extra padding.
“Hands and knees,” I say, motioning to the ground. “I don’t think either of us can last much longer.”
“We are finally on the same page.”
“Glad to hear it.”
She gets on all fours with her round ass stuck up in the air. It’s perfectly peach-shaped, and I wish I had more restraint tonight because I’d love to eat her out with her bent over like this. But that’ll have to wait until another night.
Please, let there be another night of this. This will never be enough.
“Let’s go,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder.
I kneel behind her and line myself up with her opening. She pushes back against me, shimmying her pussy on the head of my cock. I grin, cracking my palm against the curve of her ass at the same time as I push in one rough motion until I hit the back of her pussy.
“Oh fuck,” she squeals, sucking in a breath.
“I wish I could see those tits bounce,” I say, sinking inside her tight cunt again. “This is heaven, Astrid. Fucking heaven.”
“Harder.”
I grit my teeth, unable to keep pacing myself to make it last as long as possible. “Like this?”
My fingers bite into her waist hard enough that I worry about bruising her.
I pull her back while I thrust forward, pounding into her. She shrieks but continues to meet me thrust for thrust. She rocks back, greedy for more, and I’m all too willing to give it to her. I’m not sure if I’m fucking her or if she’s fucking me, but either way, it’s mind-blowing.
I’m one lucky motherfucker any way you look at it.
“Fuck!” Astrid screams, moaning as her pussy quivers around me. A sheen of sweat coats her pale skin as her arms begin to give out. Her entire body vibrates as she’s wracked by wave after wave of her orgasm.
“Stay with me,” I grunt, palming her ass with both hands. The feeling of her globes jiggling with each movement sends me to another level of euphoria. “Give me all of it.”
I bite down as my own climax smashes into me.
It’s an intense explosion, ripping through me like a gunshot. My muscles tighten everywhere. Contractions ripple repeatedly in my stomach, and I fight to keep my eyes open, to appreciate the beautiful woman under me, but the power of the orgasm is too much.
Still, the pictures in my mind’s eye are of Astrid’s ass up in the air and the silky pink flesh of her pussy. The images flash through my head and deliver with them the final jolts of pleasure. I sigh, shaking off the rest of the energy, and open my eyes to find Astrid watching me over her shoulder.
“That was hot,” she says, grinning.
I return her smile and pull out slowly. Then I get to my feet and tug her up along with me.
Her eyes are happy, but a bit weary, and I’m not sure what to do about it. So I do what I want—what feels right—and pull her into a hug. She collapses against my chest with a soft sigh.
“Are you okay?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.
She nods. “Tired.”
“You should be tired.” I kiss her gently again and then lean away. “It’s probably getting late, too.”
“I guess we’re not going back to Nashville tonight, huh?”
My chest tightens. “We can, if you want. Or we can stay at Hart’s. Your choice.”
She studies me for a few seconds before she smiles. “Let’s stay at Hart’s, as long as he won’t care.”
I grab her some tissues to clean up and get myself sorted, too. All the while, I’m flooded with thoughts about how right this could be … but also how bad this could go.
God, please don’t let me fuck this up.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Astrid
The ceiling fan whirls softly, sending a gentle flutter of air around Gray’s childhood bedroom. His bed is soft, much softer than mine at home, and his pillows are like puffed marshmallows spun into cotton. I curl up next to the wall, beneath a poster of a sports star that I can’t name, and scroll around on Social.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Naturally, I’ll overthink everything eventually because I always do. But the idea of spoiling my pure bliss tonight is unfathomable, and I’m too realistic to know that something will ruin it for me soon enough.
That’s life, baby.
My ears perk up as Gray’s footsteps pad down the carpeted hallway. My core tightens, already associating Gray’s presence with pleasure. It’s a wild concept, one so far from the migraine I associated him with when we first met. Will this change once we’re back in Nashville? The thought worries me, and the fact that I’m worried about it, that a part of me openly acknowledges that I want more of this, concerns me more.