Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
How is that possible? My mind begins to race with so many questions, but before I can verbalize any of them, Bam leans down, taking my nipple into his mouth. The sensation shoots through my body as though I’ve just touched a live wire.
My back arches, and I press more into his mouth. Bam greedily takes it, his tongue flicking across my nipple before his teeth graze it.
“Bam,” I squeal in surprise, then moan. The pleasure shoots straight down to my clit like the two are connected.
“Keep saying my name.” His mouth moves to my other breast, doing the same. His hips jerk, showing me how turned on he is.
“Bam,” I whisper his name this time as he pops the button to my jeans.
“I’m going to taste you.”
“Yes.” I nod adamantly, making him smirk. His fingers hook into my jeans, pulling them down, taking my panties with them. “I’m naked,” I say, as if he doesn’t know, rising up on my elbows, a wave of shyness hitting me.
Bam audibly sucks in a breath and slides between my thighs. The hungry, intense expression helps wash some of the shyness away. The ache that has formed between my thighs makes it almost impossible to care about anything else at this point.
“All of you is so damn perfect.” His fingers dig into the outside of my thighs as he spreads them wider to make room for his broad shoulders.
He trails his fingertip down the inside of one of my thighs, causing my hips to buck. My entire body feels on fire with how turned on I am. The way he’s looking at me at this moment isn’t helping my situation either.
“Bam,” I plead, needing him to give me some relief.
“It’s Beckham,” he says, confusing me for a moment. “My real name,” he clarifies. “When we’re like this and I’m making you come, that’s the name I want to hear you moan.” I don’t get a chance to respond before he buries his face between my thighs.
He groans as his tongue dips through the folds of my sex, tasting me in long draws before circling my clit. My mind goes blank before the orgasm hits. How instant it is shocks me.
I close my eyes, my hips bucking up as I cry out his name. “Another,” I hear him say as my body jerks, his tongue playing with my oversensitive clit.
“Oh noes.” I grip the bedding.
“Oh yes,” he responds as I feel him push a finger inside of me. “Damn, you’re tight.”
He moves his finger in and out of me. His mouth returns to my clit, nipping it, making my hips buck again. I peek down to see he’s shifted, his other hand now inside of his boxers, jacking himself as he eats me. That’s so freaking hot.
Bam keeps going, adding another finger. Something else begins building inside of me. This orgasm is different from the last. He shows no signs of slowing his feasting on me as he pushes me toward this tidal wave I know is coming.
I feel his fingers hook, hitting a deeper part of me. My world closes in before it explodes all around me. “Beckham!” I cry out, following the command he gave me earlier, before hearing him groan in pure pleasure with me.
I lie there, my whole body buzzing. My eyes flutter open to see Bam over me. I stare up at him as a smile takes over my whole face. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him down for a kiss.
“I like tasting me on you,” I tell him.
“You marked me, rebel.” He smirks, letting me know he’s more than okay with that.
Chapter Seventeen
BAM
“When you passed by the security camera, did you look at it?” Josie asks as I pull out the kitchen chair to settle in and watch her finish making breakfast. I offered to help, but she said everything was done. In the time between me climbing out her bedroom window to fetch clothes from my apartment and returning, she made the bed, showered, and mixed up biscuits. She gave me the task of setting the table while she cut the biscuits with a small drinking glass.
“Yeah.” I wanted her dad to see me coming in this morning. Making sure I pass by the camera when I leave and return takes extra effort since that means matching trips in and out of the window but we have to keep up appearances for her dad.
“Hope you weren’t wearing that.” She points a flour-coated finger in my direction.
I glance down at my gray graphic T-shirt that has “Nirvana” in faded green. “Your dad a Kurt Cobain hater?”
“Not the T-shirt, silly. Your face. I’ve never really known what smug looked like until today.” She shakes her head and then returns her attention to the biscuits.
I pick up a spoon and peer into the back of it, trying to see what she means. I look normal, if a little less grouchy.