Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
When I look toward Jansen, he’s stretched back in his chair, opening his pants. I’m hoping to take him in my mouth, too, but as I go to him, he grabs a condom packet from a desk drawer, rolls it down his rigid length, then pulls me into his lap.
CHAPTER 26
ANA
My outfit this Friday is a casual cotton dress, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t choose to wear skirts and dresses for the easy access they provide, just in case the opportunity arises. The opportunity right now is long and hard, and ready for me to mount it.
Jansen helps lift me onto his cock, not even bothering to remove my underwear. He hastily tugs them aside, as if he can’t spare a moment before he’s inside me.
I grip his shoulders and let myself sink down onto him, going slowly both because of his large size, and because I want to savor every inch of him.
As I start to ride him, he pulls my breasts out of my bra and takes them in his mouth, one after the other, then leans back to watch them bounce as I move on him. He looks like he’s drugged by the sight of me.
Though neither of the men say much, the way they look at me communicates volumes, and they make me feel incredibly desired, like I’m someone special, and not just one of the many women they’re probably getting with.
Jealousy flares in me for the first time, but I push it away. What we’re doing isn’t about anything beyond pleasure, for me or for them, so there’s no reason to feel possessive, or even think about what they do when they’re not with me.
After setting those distracting thoughts aside, I’m able to savor being with both of them together—something I’ve missed ever since our first encounter. Knowing that while I’m with one of them, the other one is waiting and watching makes everything extra hot, and that must be why I come on Jansen’s cock after just a short time riding him.
It could also be the way Jansen’s been looking at me, and when I start to come, he mutters, “That’s right, Ana. Come for me. Your pussy’s so hot and tight around my cock. That’s right.”
He talks me through it, and my orgasm hits me so hard that I cry out. Jansen’s hand comes to my mouth, muffling my cries, and even though this makes me remember where I am and how I shouldn’t be doing this, I don’t care.
I come harder and longer than I can ever remember coming before, because Jansen’s dirty talk is an unbelievable turn-on, and my clit is grinding against him, and his cock is buried deep, deep inside me, and it all feels so amazingly good.
When I come back to earth after such rapture, Jansen’s eyes are roaming my body, from my eyes to my chest, and back up to my face. He’s not talking anymore, but his eyes are telling me that I’m beautiful—I’m sure that’s what he’s thinking.
When he brushes a strand of my hair back from my cheek, something inside me crumbles, but I ignore it the best I can. I start to move on him again, squeezing my inner walls to grip him tighter, making his eyes widen and his nostrils flare.
I keep looking into his eyes, which are dark but also somehow brighter than their usual smoky hue, as I rise and fall on him, faster and faster, until my thighs are slapping down on his lap and sweat beads on my brow.
It’s exhausting but rewarding work, watching him get lost in sensation as I ride his cock. He helps me move up and down at a steady pace, until his eyes go shut, and he brings me down, staying buried deep as his cock starts to pulse inside me.
It feels much more intimate than our previous encounters, and I love being able to watch him lose control. He groans as he empties himself, and I wish there was no barrier between us. I’d love to be so full of him that it was dripping out of me.
At that thought, I could nearly come again myself, but I put my focus on watching him as he passes his peak, then shudders as he lifts me off his cock. He doesn’t move me off his lap, though, and I take advantage of the proximity and his vulnerable state, to slide a hand along his cheek. There’s coarse hair there, and warm skin, and I long to kiss him, but that’s not something we do.
When his eyes find mine, I’m suddenly self-conscious and pull my hand back. Caressing his cheek isn’t something we do, either.
Behind my embarrassment follows a familiar wave of guilt. Now that the fog of lust has cleared, everything looks different. Awkwardly, I get to my feet, tucking my breasts back into my bra, straightening my underwear and my dress.