Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
More.
I still needed more.
“Finger me,” I breathed, and this time, embarrassment did shade my cheeks. I couldn’t even open my eyes to look down at Will when I said the words. I just kept writhing against him, seeking the last little bit of whatever it was I needed for the flame to catch.
Will maneuvered me until he could snake one hand between us, and without a tease, he plunged one thick finger deep inside me and curled it against that magical spot.
“Fuck!”
I was unhinged now, rolling against him and savoring every sensation. He sucked my clit in a steady, unrelenting rhythm, his finger pumping in and out of me once, twice, before he’d leave it submerged and wiggle it in just the right way to coax my orgasm to the surface.
I sat down more, wanting him deeper, needing more, more, more. And Will answered in every way. He filled me with another finger. He sucked my clit and held it there, rewarding me with pulse after pulse of pleasure. And when I creaked one eye open and then the next, my gaze traveling down, that was all I needed.
He was ravenous.
I watched his fingers working, his mouth latched onto me, his golden eyes dark and searing and fixed on me.
And I combusted.
“God, Will, yes!”
I cried out those words over and over, in various order and at every decibel that existed. When I could no longer rock myself against him, Will took over, working me with his tongue and his fingers as I shook and screamed and moaned out every last second of my release.
Panting filled the air as the last of the climax left me, my chest heaving, hair wild where I’d run my hands through it and destroyed the ponytail I’d fixed it into. I trembled violently when Will withdrew his fingers, and then I was laughing, rolling off him until the cold tile was against my hot, slick back.
“Wow,” I breathed, body tingling, mind numb and lagging. “Wow.”
Will rolled over, wiping his mouth before the edges of it curled up just a bit. His eyes roamed over me, and then that same dangerous heat slid into his gaze.
“Fix your hair,” he said, standing. “And get back into position.”
I swallowed, both exhausted from coming and enlivened by the thought of bringing him the same pleasure.
I scrambled up as quickly as I could, ignoring my body’s protest. I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail again, sat on my knees, and wedged my hands between my thighs.
Will was at the freezer again, and he plucked another Popsicle from its wrapping.
This one was red.
The outline of his erection was even thicker against his jeans now, and I felt the nerves slide into my stomach when I remembered just how big he was.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
But I wanted it. I wanted to unravel him. I wanted to watch him come, to know I was the one who made him feel good.
I felt like I was back in college as I straightened my back, angled my chin up at him, and let determination slide into any cracks fear had produced.
Will bent into a deep squat right in front of me, his eyes on mine as he held the Popsicle with one hand and slid the other between my legs. He had to dig between my thighs to find what he wanted, and when he felt how slick I was, he bit his lip on a groan.
“Dripping,” he confirmed. “Just what I wanted.”
He stood, his denim-restrained cock right in my face as he stared down at me over the ridges of muscles lining his abdomen.
“Open your mouth. Wide. Tongue out.”
And the real lesson began.
Filthy, Naughty, Perfect Little Thing
Will
I turned to ash at the sight of her.
My body burned, a yearning, searing, unbearable heat consuming me as I towered over her and watched her part her plump, rosy lips.
Her cheeks and neck and chest were flushed from her climax — the climax I had given her. Her hands were trapped between her thick, beautiful thighs. Those wide brown eyes were fixed on me, excited and eager to learn, but tinged with a hint of something uncertain. It was impossible not to let my gaze wander, slow and greedy.
“What a sight you are,” I mused, lowering the red Popsicle until the tip of it brushed her nipple.
She jolted at the sensation, the Popsicle still frozen with flecks of frost on it. But it melted at the contact with her skin, leaving a pink mark as I trailed it from one breast to the other, loving the way Chloe wiggled and writhed — both seeking the touch and running from it.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t — not with her mouth open and waiting, pink tongue spread flat and ready.
Slowly, the Popsicle skated up and across her collarbone, along the slope of her neck, until I ran it along her bottom lip, the top of it grazing her tongue.