Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Lizzy’s chest moves up and down…up and down as she watches my every move with hooded eyes.
Lashes flutter when I drag the same finger tracing her birthmark north a few inches to run along the edge of her underwear.
Slowly.
Exploring.
I’ve only gone down on a girl once—one other time, and it was dark in the room, so I never had the opportunity to study the good bits.
I study Lizzy’s good bits now, pulling back the fabric of her underwear…dragging the silky, satiny material down over her hips. I discard the thong beside me before inching forward and
pulling her even closer still. Leaning down, I run my tongue over her pussy, using my thumbs to spread her apart.
“Oh my god…” she breathes.
It’s too soon to say she’s enjoying it, but I’d say we were off to a fucking good start…
I devour Lizzy.
Go at her pussy as if I were gunning for a prize or a medal or a trophy. Go at her pussy as if this were our last night on planet earth, and this was the one thing she’d have to remember us by.
Like it’s my fucking job.
I am going to make her come so hard she forgets both our names and what university we go to.
She moans so loud I glance up her body at her face.
Hands white-knuckle the bedspread, pulling.
“Oh god, Brodie. Oh god….”
More moans. “I want you inside me so bad, oh my god. F-fuck me, holy shit…please…”
Fuck me…please…
But I can’t.
Won’t.
I have my reasons for staying celibate—if oral sex is celibacy? Don’t know, haven’t looked it up, but I’ve been living like a goddamn monk for the past few years, blaming my hockey schedule and studies and the fact that I don’t want to get some girl pregnant and have my hand forced.
I’ve seen it dozens of times with my buddies.
Okay, so maybe not dozens, but enough times that it’d spook a dude into keeping his dick planted in his pants and not someone’s vagina.
I have another reason.
But we’re not talking about that at the moment.
Lizzy pushes at my shoulders, trying to worm away. “I want to come with you inside me.”
I shake my head.
No.
“Please, Brodie,” she begs. “Don’t make me beg.”
I smile, going at her harder, sucking her clit so good her head tips back, and she forgets about me fucking her. The loud moan coming from her throat would wake my roommates if they were home.
I smile into her pussy.
“Uhhhhhh…Oh god…”
“Right there…”
“Oh god, I’m gonna come…”
“Brodie, I’m going to come…”
As if I weren’t already aware that her pussy was pulsing, the finger I have inserted can feel it, too.
She’s so fucking wet.
Drenched.
Tight…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LIZZY
I will not rest until I’ve given Brodie an orgasm.
It’s only fair.
I came so hard I laid on the covers like a limp noodle; arms, legs—nothing was functioning for an entire three minutes. I couldn’t walk if I tried…
I had his shirt off when we were making out; now I have to work on getting him out of his pants. Obviously I wonder what his dick is like. Is he circumcised? Is it big? Is it average?
What’s does average size even mean?
I’ve never subscribed to the adage, “Big hands, big feet, big dick.” It’s simply not true and the theory has been debunked by my girlfriends—who have slept with massive, beasts of men. Football players, baseball players, regular guys who are taller than average heights.
Height does not equal dick size.
Brodie is next to me on the bed, his fingers trailing over my naked flesh.
Gently.
Tenderly.
Curiously.
He’s taken a liking to my boobs and one in particular with the freckle next to my nipple—it’s dark brown and distinctive and stands out against my pale skin. But he seems to like it, tracing the tip of his finger over it time and time again.
He’s also partial to my belly button. And the scar I have on my rib cage, where my cousin Peter stabbed me with a branch when we were young and playing Gladiator—he stabbed me hard enough that it bled and left its mark for all eternity.
I have other scars, too.
Not the way Brodie does, but little lines marring my skin that he discovers and finds interesting.
I feel vulnerable lying here with no clothes on and roll toward him, pressing a hand on his pec and pushing so that he’s forced to his back.
“My turn.”
He’s obviously in no mood to have sex—which confuses me. I know he finds me attractive. He’s had a hard-on since the moment I walked through the door, and I could feel his boner outside when we were kissing under the streetlight.
So what’s his deal?
Sully said he didn’t date, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t have sex….does it?
I move so I’m straddling him, sitting on his bare stomach, wet vajayjay and all—his hands immediately roaming up my torso to my breasts, cupping them as I stare down from this position.