Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“If you finger me and don’t follow through with a hard fuck I’m going to kill you,” I warn, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to mine.
He palms half my ass with one hand, holding me firm while a finger from his other hand circles my clit twice before sliding quickly inside of me.
I bang the back of my head against the wall and sigh in pleasure.
“You don’t want me to make love to you in this closet, Everly?” He thrusts his finger in hard, in contrast to his words. “You want a hard fuck?” His finger retreats and then he slams two in. I gasp and my knees buckle slightly, but between the wall and his grasp on my ass, I’m not going anywhere.
“Yeah. Fuck me hard, Sawyer,” I manage to cry out. “Please.”
It’s dark, a crack under the door providing the smallest sliver of light, but not enough to make him out by. I feel his mouth on my neck without seeing him move, the darkness and the party just outside the door adding an erotic element I’m not used to.
“I love how wet you get.” His mouth is at my ear now, his lips barely touching me, his breath caressing with each word. “You’re ready to fuck in under two minutes,” he murmurs, and I get even wetter than I was a moment before. I run my hands down his arms, gripping his biceps through his shirt, as I clench below around his fingers.
He groans and pumps me again, his movements rough. I like it, and I move my hips to push back against his hand. I’m warm everywhere, standing in this closet in a sleeveless dress. My body is flushed with heat, my nipples are tight. I’m hyperaware of every inch of my body and every inch that he’s touching. I rotate my hips again, grinding myself against his hand, my chest heaving and my pussy aching for more.
“I’m going to fuck you in this closet, Boots. With six hundred people just outside the door. You like that?”
I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. “Yes. I think I do,” I whisper in return. “Is that okay? That I want you to fuck me like this?”
“It’s more than okay,” he grunts.
“It’s not too dirty?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Then I want it.” I trail my hands down his forearms then move them to his waist, tracing my fingers along the belt until I make out the buckle and slip it open, the ends hanging as I quickly undo the button underneath and then slide his zipper down. “I want your cock inside of me. Right here, right now.”
I reach into his pants and pull him out, wrapping my palm around the length of him in the process. I jerk my arm, masturbating his erection with my hand. He slides his fingers out of me and wraps his hand over mine, tightening my hold and increasing the pace. I can feel myself on his hand, wet against my skin. It feels filthy to be jacking him off like we’re teenagers in a closet after a round of spin-the-bottle with friends in the other room, rather than a corporate party that he’s hosting just beyond the door. But it feels powerful too, knowing he’s in here with me, my hand wrapped around his dick, my arousal coating his fingers.
I slide my wrist out from under his and cup his balls with my hand. He continues jerking himself off, his breathing rapid and a groan emitting from his mouth when I drag my fingers over his sac in a clawing motion.
“Turn around,” he orders me. “Hands on the wall.”
I pivot around, my legs still trapped mid-thigh by the underwear, and rest my palms against the wall. My heart races in the darkness, my thighs damp, my ears straining to make up for the lack of sight. I hear the crinkle of a wrapper and the brush of fabric as he wraps himself. Then the skirt portion of my dress is flipped over my back and his hands are firm on my hips, his fingers squeezing solidly into my skin. He drags me backward a foot until I’m bent over, hands on the wall and ass up.
His feet are bracketing mine, the fabric of his slacks smooth against my bare legs. He has to bend to line up. I can feel the friction of the fabric against my legs before I feel him at my entrance. He nudges inside of me, and I moan softly. I love the feeling of him being inside of me, even an inch. He slides both hands forward, his palms warm against my stomach, fingers interwoven, and then he lifts me to the tips of my toes and thrusts deep at the same time.