Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
The tenderness of his words nearly undoes me. I nod, but it's not enough for him. He leans back, studying my face, and waits until I meet his eyes.
"Tell me to stop, and I will," he says, even softer this time.
"Don't stop," I whisper.
He kisses me again, and this time, his hand slides down to my thigh and then up, pushing my skirt higher. His palm is warm and steady, his thumb tracing circles that make my pulse race. He finds the crotch of my pantyhose, and I half-expect him to hesitate, but he just tears a little hole near the seam, slipping his fingers through.
I gasp, shocked and delighted by how easily he just…takes what he wants. I've never been that brave, but I love that he is.
He slides his hand up and presses his fingers against my panties—which are embarrassingly damp.
He groans when he realizes how wet I am. "Fuck, sweetness. I haven't even touched you, and you're this ready?"
He'd probably lose it if he knew how long I've been this ready for him. Or how very little my vibrator actually helps alleviate the ache.
His fingers slide under the edge of my panties, thick and rough and gentle all at once. The first touch is a whisper, a shocking contrast to the wild way he kissed me.
I want to writhe, to buck into his hand, but instead I freeze, unable to believe this is really happening, that he's really touching me like this, that I'm letting him.
But it's so good. God, it feels incredible.
He strokes me with careful, reverent touches, circling my clit with the pad of his thumb until I gasp. His other hand braces my lower back, anchoring me to him. The whole world condenses to that small point of heat, to that impossible, dizzying pleasure.
My whole body is a taut wire, ready to snap.
He leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. "That's it, baby. Let me feel you. Been thinking about this for weeks—how you'd taste, how you'd sound when you come apart for me."
The words go straight to my head. They land between my legs, too, right where the slow swirl of his fingers against my clit has me nearly panting. I want to tell him that I don't have the faintest idea what I'm doing, but it feels too vulnerable. So I just hold onto his shoulders and let him take the lead.
He must sense the hesitation in my body, because he softens his touch, slowing to just barely-there strokes. "I'll go as slow as you want," he murmurs. "Just tell me, sweetness. Tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want."
I don't know what I want.
I want more. I want everything. I want him, all of him, but I can't say that out loud. Instead, I nestle my face into the crook of his neck and whimper as he slides a finger inside me.
He groans, the sound deep and rough. "Jesus, Elsie. You're so tight. So fucking wet for me. Is this okay?"
I nod, my lips ghosting across his skin.
He pushes deeper. The stretch is strange but good in a way nothing else has ever been.
He moves in shallow pulses, curling his finger until sparks shoot up my spine. I rock against his hand on instinct, moaning his name.
"That's it," he whispers. "Ride my hand, baby. Just like that."
I do. I can't help it. The motion feels natural, primal, like I have to move or I'll explode. Every time I slide down, he presses against that spot that makes me see stars, and I rock a little faster, a little more frantic.
He adds another finger, slow and careful, and my whole body tenses around the intrusion. The burn fades to a desperate ache. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing his name in response.
He notices, of course. "Let me hear you," he says, gently prying my hand away from my mouth. "I want you to scream for me."
Oh god. He's going to kill me. I'm going to die right here in his lap from sheer embarrassment or sheer ecstasy. I'm not even sure which.
He works me with steady, patient strokes, curling his fingers inside me while his thumb rubs circles on my clit. Every muscle in my body draws tight, tighter, and then the wave breaks.
I lose my mind, my body, my soul. When my orgasm hits, it's a full-body detonation, my cry muffled by his shoulder as I shake apart in his arms.
He holds me through it, still working me slowly, drawing out every last tremor while whispering praise against my ear.
It takes me a while to come back to myself.
When I finally do, my cheeks are burning, and my skirt is bunched around my hips. I can feel his cock pressing up against me through his jeans, hard and huge.