Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I left my cell on the nightstand and pulled on the hotel’s complimentary fluffy white robe before padding barefoot into the living area, where Alistair was hunched over the table.
I smiled at the sight of him.
His hair was wild, his oversized T-shirt was hopelessly wrinkled, and his glasses were crooked…and probably smudged. The way my heart lurched and somersaulted in my chest, you’d have figured this dude was the incarnation of a younger even sexier George Clooney, not an overworked man who lived part-time in a world that had been gone for almost two thousand years.
“Good morning.” I kissed the top of his head. “How long have you been awake?”
Alistair pushed away from the table and swiveled the chair, scooping me into his arms in a flash. “Since four. Did I disturb you?”
I draped my arms around his neck and shook my head. “No, I was up.”
Okay, not true, but I decided there was no need to share my conversation with Raine.
He loosened the tie at my waist and slipped his hand under the robe, splaying his fingers across my stomach, then brushing them along my length. Just a whisper of a touch…featherlight and intoxicating. I arched instinctively, leaning into him and nipping his bottom lip.
He pressed soft kisses on my throat and skimmed fingernails along my sides. The robe slid off my shoulder and damn, I felt like a movie star—one of those old-timey divas who wore silk and slept on satin sheets. He nuzzled my neck, humming in appreciation.
Appreciation you say? Well, yes. This was adoration. I recognized it in his reverent gaze and tender caress. If I was the professor’s newest distraction, I wanted to be the best distraction ever. He could study me, decipher me, set me on a shelf and admire me. He could fuck me, use me, consume me—that worked too. As long as he kept looking at me…just like…this.
Alistair shoved the robe open and held me firmly at the base, stroking me the way I liked it. I returned the favor, flattening my palm over his erection currently straining to poke a hole through his briefs. He gripped my wrist and shook his head, gently pushed me off his lap.
Next thing I knew, I was in his arms being carried like precious cargo. Yes, all six feet of my skinny ass. I laughed, clinging to Alistair’s neck like a koala as he strode toward the bedroom and dumped me onto the middle of the mattress.
We snickered, rolling from side to side in a halfhearted fight for dominance. Somewhere in the mix, I lost the robe and Alistair shimmied his tee and briefs off, and finally, we were skin to skin. We groaned in unison as if it had been years and not hours since we’d been naked and writhing.
“I win. Let me suck your cock,” I panted.
Alistair chuckled. “Be my guest.”
I used every trick in the book to please him—licking his shaft like a lollipop, twirling my tongue, and doing my best impression of a shop vac. When he was incoherent and reduced to British swear words, I fumbled for the lube and stretched my opening while he suited up. I didn’t do a great job, but that was okay. I wanted the burn. I wanted to feel him all day, all night.
I lowered myself onto Alistair’s gorgeous dick, watching a myriad of expressions cross his handsome face. Wonder, desire, wonder, lust, wonder. I held his hands, undulating my hips to a rhythm we set together. He moved faster, fucking me harder and nailing my prostate with every thrust. I couldn’t hang on and he knew it.
Alistair let go of my hand and stroked me till I was surfing a wave of pleasure so much bigger than either of us. Any second now, it would bury me and—
“Oh, fuck, I’m coming,” I roared, spilling my seed over his belly.
He held me against his chest and switched our positions, fucking me in a frenzy to the finish line.
I ran my fingers through the professor’s hair, breathing heavily in the afterglow. I was wrung out and a little sore, but I didn’t want him to get up yet.
A medley of thoughts jostled my brain at once— He fits me, he smells good, his skin is soft, I want his cum inside me, I wonder if he’d want that too.
“I’m squishing you.” He kissed my nose as he pulled out before I could protest.
I watched Alistair disappear into the bathroom and listened to his movements. I knew he’d return with a warm cloth. I knew he’d wash away the mess, offer me water, and make room for me to cuddle up next to him. Those were things attentive lovers did, right? I’d had that before.
Maybe he just did it better.
Maybe he did everything better.
So why did this feel extraordinary, as if he were filling empty spaces, adding color, adding a spark of something new? I didn’t have answers, but I was smart enough to know not to question a good thing. And Alistair was my good thing.