Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Too busy wanting more, her hunger revealing itself in the way she’s already begun to writhe, the lacy nightgown sliding over her flesh as she does.
By the time I’ve reached the apex of her thighs, the thin garment has worked its way up to her hips. The moonlight streaming through the window on us allows me a teasing glimpse of the heaven promised just beneath the hem.
Fuck, if only I’d lift it a little higher…
Her hips lift when I do, like she’s presenting herself to me. Begging without words to be tasted. I can hardly hold a conscious thought in my head as I lower it, my nose brushing against the pale pink satin of her panties.
Fuck. I take a mental picture of her to keep deep in the crevices of my mind for later. I can’t hold back the feral growl of sheer desire unleashed at the scent of her arousal. Musky and sweet. It envelops me, almost robs me of the will to restrain myself for her sake.
In my mind’s eye, I see myself tearing the satin to shreds an instant before burying my cock balls deep in what I know will be heavenly silk.
Instead, I bury my nose against her mound, the dampness already soaking into the fabric, leaving moisture on my lips. I lick it off, shuddering, before turning my tongue toward the outline of her seam, satin plastered against her swollen lips.
“Oh, my—” I turn my gaze upward in time to see her jam a fist against her open mouth, desperate to contain her intense reaction to the sweeping of my tongue. It’s a delight, undoing her like this, almost as sweet as the taste of her juices. The flavor explodes across my tongue and twists my consciousness, leaving me panting and grunting like an animal. Sheer instinct leaves me needing to remove the barrier between my mouth and the treasure waiting to be plundered.
I’m barely restraining myself, the need to take from her a knot that continues to grow deep inside me.
A soft gasp cuts through the air the instant I hook my fingers inside the waistband. Glancing up, I find her watching me, holding her breath. A single kiss against her mound—soft, almost reverent—relaxes her, allowing me to remove her panties and spread her legs wide.
I could kneel here and stare down at her pussy all night. I could make a career of it. I’m salivating, licking my lips to stop myself from drooling as I revel in the masterpiece before me. Pink pussy lips shaved smooth, almost pearlescent, thanks to the juices coating them and leaking onto the mattress.
Her tiny, pink clit peeks out, and I swear it pulses as I watch.
“If I didn’t know better,” I whisper as I lower my head again. “I’d think you made sure to shave for me tonight.”
She bites her bottom lip, cheeks going deep red, and I know I’m right. The knowledge stirs something deeper than desire in my chest. Something closer to pride. She was hoping I’d come tonight.
She remembers my promise.
That’s the last thought to go through my mind before I inch forward and lap at her seam again, this time coming into contact with bare skin.
The arching of her back is sudden, almost violent.
She’s already so close, her inexperienced body careening toward the finish line at the slightest touch. I pause, waiting for her to settle down before taking another lick. Then another. Teasing us both.
As much as I know it would be best to get out of here as quickly as possible, I need this to be good for her. I need her to look back on this without regret or disappointment.
Slowly, I slide my tongue deeper, delving between her lips. Her scent explodes around me, urging me to drive deeper, to thrust into her tightness and dig out every last drop.
I’m greedy for her, I’ve always been greedy, but this is a whole other level.
Instead of breaching the barrier of her virgin pussy, I allow my tongue to sweep along her entrance before I move on, parting her folds and finally sliding over the bundle of nerves that, by now, is the entirety of her existence.
Her high-pitched squeal is barely stifled by her fist, jammed tight against her mouth while her body undulates like waves on a stormy sea. All I can do is hold her hips down with an arm flung across them—or else I might end up with a broken nose. To call her eager would be a pitiful understatement.
I work her slowly, gently, knowing it will only take the slightest friction to achieve the desired effect. Her fists twist the sheet under her now, pulling, nails scraping the fabric. She’s the image of abandon, head rolling from side to side, mouth open, chest heaving, and her legs spread wide.