Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Dammit, Gianna,” I growl.
She giggles before sucking me between her lips. I groan as the sensations—hot, tight, wet—hit me at once. Her tongue swirls over the head, collecting the precum like it’s her last fucking meal. She’s needy, loving this as much as I am … and that’s so fucking hot.
“I can’t wait,” she begins, planting kisses down my cock, “to feel you spilling down my throat.” She licks her way back to the top, flicking her tongue against the head. “That makes me so horny.”
“You’re killing me here,” I say, the ache so intense in my balls that I wince. “I—fuck!”
She sucks me into her mouth as far as she can, her free hand gripping my ass. I tremble, my body shaking as she pulls me in and out of her mouth with the perfect amount of pressure. The sounds she makes—sucking, slurping, moaning—have my breath coming out in shudders.
“Take me deeper.” I hold each side of her head and guide it up and down. “Just like that.”
Her spit rolls down me, over her fist, and drips onto my legs. Together, we find a rhythm that might be the most divine feeling I’ve ever experienced. My teeth clench as I move my hips, unable to stay still.
Faster. Harder. Deeper. My head gets light as an orgasm builds, and I know what I have to do—but fuck if I want to do it.
“Stop,” I say, pulling away from her.
She rocks back, her eyes watery, as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are pink.
She’s breathtaking.
I help her stand but instantly crave connection with her again. It’s never going to be enough. I’ve opened Pandora’s box.
My hands on her ass, I scoop her up and pin her to the wall. Her legs wrap around my waist as she captures my lips with hers. I reach between us and start to enter her but then remember that I need a condom.
“Fuck,” I say, nipping her bottom lip.
Her eyes go wide as she searches mine. “What? What the fuck is the matter now?”
“I need a condom.”
“Do you, though?” She grinds her soaked pussy against me. “I’m on birth control. Got a checkup last month and I’m a healthy girl.”
“I got mine three weeks ago. I’m good, too.”
Her back arches, shoving against the wall, as she begs for contact. “Fuck me then. Raw. I want to feel you inside me.”
The mouth of a fucking goddess. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She giggles, but the sound turns into the loudest moan I’ve ever heard as I part her flesh with my cock. She’s so wet, the fluids coating her thighs in a slippery, sticky mess. The heat of her body covers mine as I press the tip against her opening.
I take a breath and shove all the way inside her.
“Fuck!” she yells, the sound of her voice echoing through the house. “Drake!”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Gianna
His thrust is hard. Unapologetic. Intense.
Absolute fucking perfection.
I’m pinned between the wall and Drake Bennett, and I don’t know which is harder.
My shoulders dig into the drywall as he slams into me again, as if he’s needed this as badly as I have. Each stroke is an intentional movement. Deliberate. Like he’s trying to commit this to memory through the fog like I am.
“Now this is cooperation,” I say, the sound coming out in small bursts around his thrusts. I leverage myself with my hands against his thick shoulders and tilt my hips to allow him to go as deep as he can possibly get. “Just like that.”
“You feel so good,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Give it to me harder.”
His chuckle is strained. “If I give it to you any harder, we’re both going through the wall.”
“I can afford renovations.”
Like the good man he is, he gives me what I ask for.
He drives into my pussy so deliriously deep that I cry out. My voice pierces the air as I squeeze my eyes shut, vaguely aware of the sound of my body colliding with the drywall. It’s borderline pain and pleasure, like I might be splicing into two, and the ferocity of the sensation makes me feel alive.
A painting crashes to the floor from overhead, sending thousands of tiny beads scattering across the hardwood.
“Don’t stop,” I say. “I didn’t like that piece anyway.”
He leans forward, capturing my lips with his, and kisses me like his whole life depends on it. Our mouths move together in slow, sensual movements like we’ve had a lifetime of practice. There is no learning curve; we’re in sync from the start.
“Bedroom?” He presses the words against my lips. “Which way?”
I motion vaguely to the right, moaning in displeasure as he slides out of me.
“I’m mad at you,” I say, locking my ankles around his waist and fingers working through his soft hair.