Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Complications.”
“Exactly. And the same can be said for New Years.”
“So, really…we’re lookin’ at a couple weeks at most.”
Arley quickly nods. “Not ideal but definitely manageable.”
“I’ll organize a mission plan and update the others accordingly.” Allowing my shoulders to untense is followed by me asking, “What are their hours?”
“Eleven to nine.”
“Good. That means we can finally go Christmas tree shoppin’ in the mornin’. Lot opens at seven. Hot coco truck at seven thirty.”
Her excitement causes her to bounce enthusiastically in my lap, stirring my cock in a way that I can actually do something about. “I can’t believe we’re actually picking out a tree together this year!”
“Baby, we pick out trees together every year. It’s one of our traditions.”
“Yeah, except this year, we’re picking out just one. One for our place versus each of our separate homes.” Arley’s grin grows bashful. “Er…our place for now anyways.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Confusion furrows her brow. “Are you saying I can go back to my townhome?”
“I’m sayin’ I want you to make this your permanent home.” The declaration rolls off my tongue so naturally I almost don’t even realize I’ve done it. “I want this to be our home.” Tightening my hold is attached to a loving smile. “I wanna use that money T owes us to hire a movin’ company and get all your shit from your townhouse, here, and really move you in instead of jus’ wingin’ it like we have been.”
“You want us to really live together?”
“We already really live together. I jus’ want us to make it all…a little more…official.”
“First a pre-engagement bracelet and now this?” she teases, lips lowering to feather mine. “We’re moving sooooo fast.” Her lighthearted laugh heats my mouth prior to her asking, “What on Green Day’s earth am I gonna do with you, Cowboy?”
Wolfish chortles crawl out of me as my hands creep underneath the edge of her sleep shorts. “I know what I’m about to do you, Angel Cake…”
Fuck her until she’s fast, fast asleep.
Afterall, we’ve both missed that combination.
That connection.
And truthfully?
I know we both need it.
Chapter 11
Arley
Socks are for feet, not mouths.
Albeit it’s a clean sock, but still.
It belongs on his foot, not jammed between my teeth to keep my screams suppressed so that no one in the other room knows what we’re doing in here.
Except they do know.
Even if they wish they didn’t.
Because there’s only one logical explanation for two people to disappear this long into a closed room.
And that’s exactly what we’re up to.
Slater’s large palm presses my bent leg harder against the edge of the folding counter in our laundry room at the time he growls against my ear, “Tis the season for givin’, Angel Cake.”
Moaning can’t exactly be helped.
Not when his cock is carving away like my g-spot is on his naughty list and checking it twice wasn’t enough.
“Give me one more,” Slater begs, balls slamming against my pussy, bathing in the stifling hot stickiness dripping free over and over and over again. “Give me jus’ one more, baby.”
My entire frame incessantly shakes in submission while I watch through hooded eyes as his thick, midnight blue lettering cascades its way down my exposed tits.
“Give me one more to think about while I’m waitin’ to come home.” His smooth-edged words reach the tip of his middle finger, joining it in the ceaseless circling of my clit. “Give me one more to fuckin’ dream about ‘til I can be right,” a much sharper pound is delivered in tandem with a harder rub, “back,” another follows suit causing my slick muscles to constrict to the point of no return, “here.”
Burning sensations spread from the tips of my wiggling toes up through my aching calf and angled knee to fuse with the ones building between my quivering thighs.
Breathing suddenly becomes irrelevant.
Fuck, everything that isn’t bucking back into his increasingly rabid pumping is irrelevant.
All I can do…all I wanna do is keep meeting him thrust for thrust.
Pound for pound.
Muffled moan for fucking moan.
“Come on, Angel Cake,” Slater animalistically purrs as his hand glides itself around my leg towards the curve of my ass, “make my cock filthy…” The gentle prodding of his thumb against my tight hole isn’t gentle for long. “And I’ll do the same for that pretty little pussy of yours.”
One rough push of his slippery digit further in mercilessly shoves me over orgasm’s cliff. Spine arching screams are set free to be absorbed by the damp fabric doing a miraculous job at muzzling the sound while my neck snaps backwards landing on his shoulder, allowing his other hand to cup the extended area and sop up the continual vibrations being expelled.
“Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck,” dribbles itself through his gritted teeth, splattering beautiful blue lettering on top of me to the same steady rhythm his cock is splashing white inside of me. Blistery spurts are met by even more fiery pulsations prompting the love of my life to bellow at the top of his lungs, “Fuckkkkkkkkk!”