Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
As soon as her chin lowers in a nod, I slam home. She’s wet and ready for me, but taking me all at once is a shock to us both. She grunts, trying to stay quiet, and I praise her, “You feel so good, Wren. Look so beautiful with me stretching your sweet pussy.”
She sighs happily, wiggling beneath me, and then commands, “Fuck me, Jesse. Like I’m yours.”
Goddamn, her mouth. She likes my dirty talk, but fuck if she can’t nearly send me over the edge with one word.
“You are mine,” I remind her with deep, powerful, bonding strokes.
I grab her hips, tilting them up even more, and her tippy-toes leave the floor. Her legs flail a bit, looking for an anchor, and she finds my legs, wrapping around them with her own and locking her feet behind my calves.
I think we’re still being quiet, but I’ve honestly forgotten to give a fuck when Wren is writhing beneath me until there’s a knock on the door. Though I don’t want to, we freeze.
“Wren?” Oliver calls out.
Fuck that guy.
I start to slide in and out of Wren slowly, fucking her as I feel her go extra slick again. I lean over her, gripping her hair in my fist to turn her head. Meeting her eyes, I warn, “Get rid of him or I’m gonna answer the door with my dick out. Let him see me covered in your sweet honey so he knows you’re mine and I’m yours, and he’ll never get at this beautiful pussy.”
She must see something in my eyes that says I’m dead fucking serious—which I am—because she says, “Uhm, Oliver—” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat roughly before trying again. “Hey, can we continue this . . . ungh . . . tomorrow? Mmm.”
She’s doing her best, but I’m intentionally making it hard on her, rolling my hips to hit the front wall inside her at the right angle as I slip in deep with each stroke.
“Yeah, see you in the morning,” he says slowly. I can hear the anger in his voice, but he’s not my concern right now.
I wait a second to give him time to walk away and then let loose on Wren. She’s on the edge again, so close to falling apart, and I want to give her that. I want to feel her release every control she holds so tightly and fly, her pussy sucking another orgasm from me as she does it. I thrust into her hard. Deep. Fast. She’s losing control and reaches for my hand, placing it over her own mouth to help her stay quiet. I press harder, watching carefully even though I know she can breathe through her nose, and keep my pace.
It only takes a few more strokes for her to spasm. Her nails dig into my hand as she holds it there even tighter, muffling her cries of pleasure. I do my best, gritting my teeth and trying to hold in my grunts as I come with her. Her pussy quivers around my cock, pulling my cum from me, as we ride out the high together.
Reality seeps in slowly as Wren untangles her feet and reaches toward the floor. I release her mouth and hips, straightening my legs, which are suddenly threatening to seize on me. I slip out of her, and though I mourn the loss of being inside her, as I stand up straight, I hiss, “Shiiit.”
Wren giggles quietly as she adjusts, too, stretching her arms over her head and reaching as high as she can. Her breasts lift enticingly in her shirt, and I realize that I didn’t even touch them. Instantly, I vow to show them extra attention next time. Maybe see if I can get Wren to come solely through nipple play?
Challenge gladly accepted.
“I think we’re made for bed sex, or couch sex, or floor sex. Something where we can align our parts without you crouching down and me arching my back like I’m in a contortionist yoga class.”
“Wall sex. I can hoist you up, pin you, and then go to town,” I suggest as another alternative.
The easy joke eases the transition back to the reality of what we just did in her office. “Do you think he’s gone?” she asks, not needing to explain who she’s talking about.
“I didn’t hear his footsteps, so he might be out there right now listening to us talk about his little dick and shitty personality.”
Wren’s eyes fly open wide. “Jesse!”
“Or he might be wearing loafers that don’t make noise on the floor,” I admit.
That seems to soothe her, and she moves toward the door to grab her pants. She shakes them out a couple of times, sending her panties flying across the room. Finishing my own button and zipper, I snatch them out of the air and hold them up, swinging them from a fingertip. “Did you want these?”