Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“What’s this then?” he asked, fingers teasing over my wet cleft.
“I just got out of the shower,” I reminded him even as my breath caught and my heartbeat became a frantic bass beat in my chest.
“Hmm,” he said. His heated gaze held mine as his fingers slid back down, then pressed inside of me, making a surprised gasp escape me as my hand grabbed his arm. “What about this?” he asked, voice still holding a challenge.
Try to deny it when my fingers are all inside your wet pussy.
“Dav…” I whimpered, too far gone to care how needy I sounded.
“Okay,” he said, voice soft as his free hand went around my waist, pulling me against him as his fingers started to slide inside of me.
“You know how many times I thought about my fingers inside of you?” he asked, getting a low whimper from me in response. “No fantasy comes close to this,” he added. “Feel how wet you are for me? How tight you are squeezing me?”
His fingers started to drive me up, and my labored breathing had my ribs aching. But I couldn’t seem to make myself care as his fingers turned inside of me, crooking and stroking against my top wall as his palm flattened against me, engaging my clit.
I gave into the need to lean into him, to bury my face in his neck, to surround myself with him. Like I’d been telling myself for years that I didn’t want.
Just this once, I was going to let myself have exactly what I wanted. Without obsessing over the outcome.
Dav’s head tilted, resting on the top of mine as he continued to work me. Making my legs wobble and my breath go quick and shallow.
Up this close, there was no denying his own desire as it pressed against me. As long and thick as I’d fantasized about in weak moments alone in my own bed.
Sensing the direction of my thoughts, Dav’s fingers moved a little faster.
“You have no idea how badly I want you right now,” he said, voice deep. “How much I wish my cock was buried right here,” he told me, using his fingers to emphasize his point, “right now.”
Another small, needy whimper escaped me as my walls tightened around his fingers, clearly desperate for that as well.
“But not yet,” he said. “Right now, I want to feel you tremble under my touch, to hear you moan my name.”
As if on cue, a low moan escaped me as his fingers and palm worked me just right at the same moment.
Listening to my response, Dav continued that exact movement and pace until I was trembling as hard as he wanted, until my moans were filling the air around us, until he was pushing me right to that edge.
“That’s it,” he said. “Just like that. Come for me,” he demanded. “I want to hear you cry out my name.”
Another stroke of his fingers had me pushed over that edge, free falling into the orgasm that had me crying out, choking out his name as I struggled to find my breath while I crashed over and over again.
It took all of, I don’t know, two-point-five seconds after the post-orgasm fog evaporated for me to realize how epically I had just fucked things up by allowing that to happen.
“And there she goes,” Dav said, voice tighter than usual.
I wanted to ask what that meant, what had put so much defeat in his voice. That desire was exactly why I wasn’t going to let myself ask, though.
His fingers slid out of me, and he waited for my gaze to find his before he stepped back to slip his fingers into his mouth, tasting me.
The low rumbling sound he made then damn near had me begging him to take me right then and there, all my pain be damned.
But his fingers slid out of his mouth, and he moved away from me, leaving me to yank my panties the rest of the way up with my one good hand.
I wanted to drape my arm across myself again, to create a physical boundary because of the confusion I felt surrounding my emotions right then.
But I couldn’t let Davide know he’d gotten to me.
I let my arms hang by my sides as he came back to me, his gaze on mine, his hands holding a fresh roll of elastic bandages.
“Arms up, love,” he said, and my heart swooped and soared at that word, at the gentle way he’d said it.
But I couldn’t have that.
So I broke those wings mid-flight, and lifted my arms in such a way to get them out of the way and hide my chest as he wrapped me up tightly, a sensation that made the pain worse for a while, but as soon as he was done, helped it ease to a tolerable ache.