Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
There was nothing hotter than a woman begging.
Oh, fuck.
I wanted to fuck her—so hard.
But she made me promise I wouldn’t. If I broke my word, she wouldn’t hold it against me. Any man would do it after listening to her beg twice. I was only human, and my cock only had one goal.
But I wanted her to trust me.
If she didn’t, I would never get what I wanted.
And that was more important than fucking her for the first time.
Because I wanted to fuck her a lot more.
I pressed my mouth against hers and gave her a hard kiss, crushing my mouth against those soft lips. My tongue danced with hers, playing a sexy game of hockey. I grinded against her forcefully, moving over her soft, wet folds until I reached my breaking point.
I needed her to come.
“Baby, come for me.” I gripped the back of her neck and rubbed my cock against her forcefully, making sex noises that amplified in my bedroom. It felt so good, and the burn blew up my shaft from my balls. I couldn’t hold on much longer, not after listening to her pleas, but I needed her to get off first.
She obeyed my command unconsciously, and she came with a scream. Her nails dragged down my back slowly, moving all the way to the top of my ass. Her hips rocked with mine, wanting as much friction as she could get.
My bedroom reeked of sex.
“Calloway.” She looked into my eyes with a wide-open mouth, her eyes holding the satisfaction I loved to see on a woman.
She finished, and now it was my turn. I exploded onto her stomach and chest, hitting her right below the chin and in the valley of her breasts. I kept squirting like a geyser, trailing all the way down to her belly button. My tip pointed into her navel, and I deposited the rest there.
My handiwork was a turn-on in itself. She was covered in my cum, her bra stained with my semen. I wanted her to stay like that forever just so I could look at her. I didn’t go inside her, but I felt like I claimed her in an even more sexual way.
And I wanted to claim her like that again.
Instead of wearing the clothes she arrived in, she borrowed a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt. She looked sexy in my stuff, sexier than I ever did. She sat across from me at the kitchen table and sipped her wine.
I put the plates in front of both of us and began to eat. It was chicken caprese with ravioli and a side salad. It was more food than I would normally make for myself, but since she always ordered a salad, I wanted her to load up on some calories. She probably didn’t want to eat what I made her, but I knew she was too polite to let it go to waste.
She cut into her chicken and ate slowly, taking her time as she enjoyed the two different sides. She sipped her wine intermittently and stayed quiet. After sex, I was usually tired and in a quiet repose. She seemed to be the same.
“Do you like your dinner?”
“It’s amazing,” she said. “You’re a great cook.”
“I’m glad to see you like other things besides salad.”
She held my gaze but stopped eating. Her gaze was unreadable, but my words clearly meant something to her. She turned back to her plate and kept eating, not making eye contact with me again.
Did I hit a nerve?
She took a few bites of her ravioli, eating so slowly she reminded me of a sloth. Slow and steady, she continued the race and eventually ate everything on her plate, not leaving a single crumb behind. When one of the tomatoes fell off the chicken, she stabbed it with a fork and placed it in her mouth.
I was impressed. “You must have been hungry.”
“I don’t like to waste food.”
“So you weren’t hungry?”
“I was. I just don’t normally eat that much.”
Tension hung in the air, and instead of letting it continue to grow, I decided to cut through it. “Is there a reason why I hardly see you eat?”
She directed her callous eyes on me, her defenses coming up. I could tell when she was provoked. There was a metallic gleam in her eyes. Methodically, her brain worked to find a suitable answer. The question was simple and nearly harmless, but she absorbed it like it was a question under oath. “I feel guilty.”
I hadn’t finished my dinner, but now I lost my appetite. Without knowing exactly what she meant, I knew she was opening up to me, revealing an aspect of herself she’d never showed me before. The careful choice of her words and the strength of her voice told me it was a serious matter. “Why?” I set my fork down and gave her my full attention.