Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
“As long as you keep scrubbing, I’ll behave. I won’t make you come until you’re finished,” he says, voice low, his breath hot on my ear. “But if you keep letting me distract you from your work… well, you’ll still finish, but the dishes probably won’t get cleaned,” he says, his tone a mix of amusement and arousal.
How am I supposed to focus on doing the dishes with him touching me like that?
I close my eyes for a few seconds and try to regroup. It’s hard to even breathe with him teasing me the way he is, but finally, taking a slow, deep breath, I pick up the scrubby and the dish again.
As I scrub the dish, he strokes the lace covering my pussy.
I finish cleaning it as quickly as I can and move on to the next one.
Hunter starts rubbing my ass with his other hand, then he slides a hand between my legs and slips a daring finger under the scanty lace.
I gasp as his finger grazes my bare entrance.
I know he said he wouldn’t make me come as long as I kept scrubbing, but I don’t want to break his dishes. I put the dish down before I drop it and grab the edge of the sink again.
Hunter kisses the side of my hair. “You’re so fucking sensitive. I love it.” His lips graze the shell of my ear. “Did you ever touch yourself when I was away, Riley?”
Heat climbs my neck, but I nod.
“Yeah? Did you ever think of me while you did it?”
The flush deepens, climbing even higher. “Yes,” I say, a touch shyly.
“You better hurry up and finish these dishes, Catnip,” he tells me smoothly. “At this rate, I’m gonna win.”
It’s hard to breathe, but I crack a smile. “I didn’t realize it was a game.”
“Stick that pretty little ass out.”
I’m not sure if his praise, his touch, or his direction makes me blush harder. Whatever causes my skin to flush so deeply, I stick my ass out like he told me to, then I grab the scrubby and make my best effort to keep cleaning.
“Let’s see,” he murmurs thoughtfully as he continues to toy with me. “What should I get if I win?”
The blunt tip of his middle finger moves inside me, pressing against my clit. I rise up on my tiptoes trying to get away from the sensation and scrub more frantically at the dish.
“I think if I win, you blow me while we watch the movie.”
I let out a shaky breath. “And if I win?”
“If you win, I’ll hoist you up on this countertop and eat your pussy.” He kisses the side of my face. “Gotta finish the job, after all.”
I look at the dishes I have left in the sink. It’s not many, just our wine glasses and a couple of forks.
Surely I can get those clean before he can make me come.
Even if I can’t… I mean, it’s not like there’s a loser in this scenario.
“All right,” I say, looking back at him. “You’re on.”
Flashing me a devilish smile, he says, “Excellent,” then he grabs my jaw, turning my head so he can reach my mouth to give me a real kiss.
As soon as he releases me, he slides his hands into the waistband of my panties and starts to slide them down.
“What are you doing?” I ask, starting to squeeze my legs together. “I thought—”
“We didn’t establish any rules,” he tells me. “I make you come, I win. You don’t come until after the last dish is clean, you win. I can do whatever I want to make you come, and I want your panties off.”
“Wait a minute, that’s not what we agreed to. I thought you could only touch me like you were.”
He bends down to get me all the way out of my panties.
I sigh at the big cheater and step out of them.
He smirks up at me, then reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head as he stands.
I sigh. “You get to be shirtless, too? This isn’t fair.”
“Home-field advantage,” he says lightly.
The sight of him shirtless is all the distraction I really need not to be able to focus on the stupid dirty dishes.
His body is incredible. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. I know I’m pretty biased on account of being so fond of him, but he’s the actual embodiment of physical perfection—all bronzed skin and cut muscles. My stomach feels funny just looking at him standing there, subtly—maybe even accidentally—flexing as he turns to drop his shirt on the floor.
And his back muscles. Do not let me get started on his back.
“Why are you so sexy?” I demand, somewhat accusingly.
He smirks, walking over to me. “Good genes, good workout regimen.”
I drop the scrubby and reach out to touch his abs. “Just… so pretty.”