Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“And what do you say?”
“I say I’d like to find a good one on Ten Things a Man Can Do to Please the Woman He’s a Little Obsessed With.”
Her cheeks go pink. “Sounds like you’ve already read it.”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t finished it. It’s something I want to read every night. It keeps me up late.”
She rolls her lips together like she’s holding in a gasp, then whispers, “You should keep reading.”
“I will,” I say, feeling like at least we’ve figured out that much. Whatever this thing between us is, it’s not ending.
The next morning, when I’m coming down the stairs early to drive Josie to work, she’s standing in the kitchen wearing a black skirt, a white shirt, and heels. Her hair’s twisted in a bun, with a few strands coming loose. Her lips are glossy and pink.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this…” I say when I reach the kitchen.
“Hate what?”
“That you’re going to be late for work.”
She glances at the clock on the microwave. “Wes, I can’t be late.” She sounds sad.
I look her up and down in her perfect outfit down to the heels and of course her glasses. She’s my librarian fantasy. “You’re right. You can’t be,” I say, then I loop an arm around her waist and tug her against me.
She bites the corner of her lips but then shakes her head. “I mean it.”
“I know you do, baby,” I say, dropping my face to the crook of her neck and pressing a soft, barely there kiss to her skin. “But…”
“But what?” she asks breathily.
“Did you know that clock on the microwave is five minutes fast?”
She gasps. “Wes!”
I pull back. “Got five minutes?”
“That’s not much time,” she says.
I slide a strand of hair behind her ear, running the pad of my finger along the shell. “I’ll have to be very, very focused.”
But before I can spin her around and lift her onto the counter, she grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room. Then she shoves my chest, pushing me down onto the couch.
Taunting her is officially my best idea ever as she hikes up her skirt to her thighs and drops to her knees.
Fuck me.
In no time, she’s tugged down my shorts and my briefs and is flicking her tongue against the head of my cock. She sucks the crown just past those gorgeous pink lips, and I shudder out a harsh breath. “Fuck, Josie,” I mutter.
With a goddess grin, she drops my dick, takes down her bun, and says, “You’ve got less than five minutes to make my lipstick messy. Better get to work, stud.”
It. Is. On.
I grab her head, rope my hands through her lush hair, and guide her back onto my hard dick. She slides her palms up my thighs while she takes me deep with barely a second thought.
Like she’s showing off, she sucks hard, voraciously, all while keeping her eyes on me.
I curl my hands tighter around her skull as her lips stretch wide, inviting me to fuck her throat. A few pumps and I’m shaking. Groaning. Hell, I’m lifting my hips off the couch and fucking her invitation of a mouth.
My balls tighten. My thighs shake. My chest is overheating. Pleasure crackles in my whole body as I thrust past those lush lips till she coughs.
“You okay?” I ask as I pull out.
She lifts a stern brow. “Two minutes, Wes. You want to talk or you want to come?”
I close my eyes, smiling like a lust-struck fool. This woman. I shut my mouth and fuck hers till an orgasm marches through my body, slamming into me as I warn, “Coming.”
And she sucks me dry.
My vision is still blurry when she rises, adjusts her skirt, and says, “Be right back.”
When I look down though, there’s a pair of panties on my lap. And they’re soaked. I’m going to need to make her come many, many times tonight to thank her for that five-minute drill.
A few minutes later, we get in the car with just enough time to take her to her little library. Time always seems to be running out with us, and the next six weeks will go by so much faster than I want them to. Once we’re on our way to the Upper Haight, I return to the thing that brought us together in the first place.
“We should figure out number six soon. Volunteer,” I say, reminding her of her aunt’s top ten list.
Along the way, we toss out ideas and maybe plans to pick one this weekend, and by the time we near the library we’ve narrowed it down to a few options. But when I pull up after passing the fire station, she gestures casually to the guys outside milling around the fire truck. “That reminds me. The Friends of the Library Association is having a pancake fundraiser at our library in partnership with the fire station this weekend. We’ll have to do our volunteering after.”