Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I had a flash of him standing at a bathroom sink, shirtless with a jaw covered in shaving cream and a razor gleaming in his hand. He’d probably done it right before our date because his skin was soft and smooth until I went against the grain. Someday soon, perhaps I’d see that domestic, everyday image for real. That thought should have scared the hell out of me.
But it didn’t.
I used the tip of my tongue to trace the edge of his ear, mimicking the techniques he’d used on me. Satisfaction swelled as he let out a soft sigh. His hands tightened on my waist and pressed me into him . . .
So I could feel every inch of my effect.
It was powerful and intoxicating, and the courage that had waned after my orgasm started anew. I pushed a hand down his chest, tracing the line of buttons on his shirt as I headed for his belt, and appreciated the hardened form of his muscles beneath my palm.
He smelled like pine trees and something else. Like I imagined sex and desire would if they had a fragrance.
“You smell so good,” I whispered into the crook of his neck. I hadn’t intended to say that out loud, but my brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t operating at full capacity. I’d given exactly one hand job in my life, and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been good. I wanted to be better.
When I eased my hand between our bodies and traced the outline of him with my fingertips, his heavy breath filled my ear. He held perfectly still as I cupped him through his jeans and brushed my palm over the bulge.
Was my touch too timid? He reached down and placed his hand on top of mine, making me hesitate. Alarm shot up my back. Was he stopping me because I’d done something wrong?
No. He held on to my hand as he stood and then used it to help pull me up to my feet as well. He’d grown tired of kneeling, I realized, as he led me to the couch.
“Get lost, cat,” he said.
Lucifer lifted his head, eyed his master, and begrudgingly jumped down from the couch when Royce gave him a gentle nudge. Once the cockblocking cat was gone, Royce sat and tugged me down beside him. He guided my hand back to where it had been, encouraging me to use more pressure.
As I leaned over, he slipped a hand behind my head and resumed kissing my neck. It was seductive. He used his tongue and the edge of his teeth, and bliss buzzed through me as a fast-acting drug.
He undid his belt with one hand and unzipped his fly, giving me better access while also making it clear what he wanted. I was happy he was taking the lead. Would he mind giving me more direction if I asked?
“So, um . . .” I whispered as I slipped my hand inside his undone jeans, caressing him through the soft, black underwear he wore. “You might have to tell me what to do. This will be the second hand job I’ve ever given, and the first one was subpar.”
A laugh cut off in his throat as he froze. “Subpar,” he repeated in disbelief. But then Royce was there, cupping my hand and guiding me again to stroke him. “Not fucking possible, unless you tried to squeeze his dick off.” His lips against the side of my neck curved into a smile. “Did you?”
My eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t think so.”
“Show me how hard your grip was.”
I did.
“Oh, you’re adorable.” He licked a line up to my ear, drawing a shudder from me. His voice was encouraging and persuasive. “Do it like you mean it.”
He jerked down the waistband of his underwear, and his dick popped free. I palmed it and was surprised at the soft skin, yet how rigid he was beneath. Stone sheathed in velvet. I closed my fingers around him.
“Harder,” he encouraged in a hush.
His palm moved to my wrist and urged me to slide up and down. The thick head of his dick pushed through my fist as I pumped back and forth on long strokes. I sat up so I could do it better.
His chest moved rapidly on his quickening breath, and the muscle along his jaw ticked. Royce’s eyes hazed. This was more reaction than I’d gotten last time, so I was doing something right.
“Who was it?” he asked between two heavy breaths. “The guy you were with?”
Was I supposed to talk about someone else when I had a guy’s dick in my hand? “Uh . . . Richard Shaunessy.”
“Liam’s son?”
I’d forgotten Richard’s father was a board member. I bit my lip. “Yeah. It was one time, and he wasn’t—”
“Nope.” Royce’s tone was clipped. “I don’t need to know. I shouldn’t have asked.”