Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Except Liv.
She called me “her boy,” and I liked that. My mom used to call me that, and it made me smile. Feel loved. I knew she was looking down at me and was happy I had found my place.
I got to the house, peeking in the office, surprised Mila wasn’t at her desk or in her big chair she liked to curl up in to write. I walked to the kitchen, still in awe of this place. Mila and I had bought some new pieces together. She had discovered my sketchbooks when we were unpacking my things and had framed several pieces, hanging them on the walls. She loved it when I would show her new sketches, and I enjoyed the tranquility of sitting and drawing out the vistas and quiet beauty of this place.
My favorite sketch was the one I drew of her when I first met her. Before I knew who she was. I had still captured her sweetness. It hung in the room I used as an office now, and I often lost time gazing at it, until I had to go and see the real thing. Hold her and feel her against me, knowing this was my life now. Mila filled every crevice and dark spot with her lightness and love.
Not finding her, I headed upstairs, stopping in the doorway. Mila was on our bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching the TV. I stared at her for a moment, noting the loose T-shirt she wore. One of mine. She loved putting on my clothes. I loved taking them off her.
I did a double take when I saw what she was watching, and I strode into the room, standing between her and the screen, glaring at her.
She pulled off the headphones. “What?”
“What did we agree, Mila? No porn watching. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
She waved her hand. “You were at work. I need inspiration. Move.”
I shook my head, crawling up on the bed toward her, tossing the headphones away. “Not without me.”
“Stop. It was getting to the good stuff. The moaning and writhing were about to start.”
She looked adorable, defending her need to watch the movie. I cocked my head, leaning close and dropping my voice. “You wet, baby? Has watching made you wet?”
“Maybe,” she responded.
An idea hit me. I recalled what she told me once. How she could get off just watching porn. We’d never discussed it again, but suddenly, I needed to see that more than I needed anything else. I pulled her forward, sliding in behind and settling her between my legs. Using my feet, I opened her legs, wrapping an arm around her and holding her tight to my chest. I grabbed the remote and restarted the movie.
“I want to watch,” I murmured in her ear.
“With me?” she breathed.
“No, I want to watch you watch them. I want to see you come.”
“I don’t know if I can with you here.”
“You can, baby. I’ll help.”
She whimpered a little as I grazed my fingers across her breasts, finding her nipples tight and hard.
“You’re so turned on, aren’t you?”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen. I slid a finger between her legs, feeling the dampness of the cotton that covered her.
“Oh baby, let’s see you go.”
The movie was more sensual than dirty. More artistic than porn. But she liked it. I tugged her legs open wider, letting my hand cup her. She pushed back into me, my growing erection trapped between us. Her hands moved restlessly on my legs, gripping at the material. Her breathing became choppy, sounding harsh in the room. As the woman on the screen began moaning, her lover’s face between her legs, Mila’s body stiffened, her back arching. Her toes curled, and she whimpered in her release. I watched her, fascinated at the flush on her cheeks and her body’s response to the stimulus. I slipped my finger inside her underwear, finding her hard clit. She gasped as I stroked her, another orgasm bearing down on her. She cried out, riding my hand, turning her head so I could capture her mouth in a searing kiss.
I gentled my touch, withdrawing my hand, but my little spitfire wasn’t done. She turned, pulling off my shirt and yanking down her underwear.
“Down,” she begged, tugging on my legs.
I slouched, letting her pull off my shorts. Then she slung her legs over mine, presenting me with a glorious view of her back and ass. She guided me inside and rode me, reverse cowgirl style, her eyes still on the screen. She was tight from this angle, and I gripped her hips, guiding her. Listening to her noises. The catch in her throat. The raspiness of her voice. The way she tightened around me.
“Jesus, baby, yes. Again,” I demanded, sitting up and burying my face into her neck. “Ride me until you come.”