Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“You’re still recovering. I thought slow and easy would be better. Making you come with my mouth and hands. But you want hard and fast against a slippery wall. Is this what happens in those books you read? Is this what you want?”
“Yes. That’s what I w-want.” He curves the fingers inside me and rubs my prostate once. Just once. Cruel tease. “Now would be good.”
“Any other demands, Win? You want to hear me speaking Turkish again? Want to sit on my lap and call me a pub beast?”
“No.” My erection is slipping up and down the porcelain wall. “Just you, Michael. I just want you.”
His fingers are gone and, after I hear the sound of him opening a condom and slipping it on, the wide head of his cock replaces them, pushing inside. Forcing a stretch with a low groan of pleasure that’s so good I can’t catch my breath.
“My Win,” he rasps hotly against my cheek. “I knew. From the second I saw you, I knew.”
What did he know? That I was his? Or that the world would shift on its axis with the first stroke of his cock? That I would feel impaled and destroyed and changed with every punishing, jarring jolt of his hips?
He spreads my knees farther apart with his thighs, one broad palm on my stomach and the other braced against my hip, and I can’t think. Can’t find my balance. My fingers claw at the wall, at the air, reaching back for his hips, desperate for something solid to hang on to.
Sex isn’t like this. It doesn’t feel this good. It doesn’t mean this much. “Michael.”
“I’m here.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me up tight in his arms as he gives me what I want. “I’ve got you. Finally got you. I need to— Win, tell me you’re with me. Tell me you can take what I need to give you.”
I feel my head shaking, but I still say, “Yes. Everything. Anything.”
His next thrust slaps our flesh together and my shout echoes off the walls. He does it again, harder this time. He breaks up the rhythm, stopping between strokes to grind against my ass, as if he can’t get deep enough.
Every time I get close, he changes the swivel of his hips, the speed of his strokes. He waits until I’m gasping and crying his name before he finds that spot that makes me see stars and clench around him. “Fuck. Right there. Please, Michael.”
“That’s what you need, baby?”
He shifts my body, angling his thrust to hit it again, and I moan raggedly. “Please, don’t stop again. I need to come.”
He grunts with his next forceful stroke. “I’ll never stop, Win. Not until I know every button to push, every sound you make and what it means. You’ll be teaching me until I’m an expert on this body. The only one you’ll reach for whenever you need to feel good again.”
I must say something coherent in the affirmative, because he praises me and his hand slides down my stomach to wrap around my leaking shaft. He starts to stroke me in time with his thrusts. “I love your cock. Love how it feels in my hand, in my mouth.”
I’m a fan of his too, but I don’t have the breath left to tell him that.
“I’m going to take you slowly the next time, I swear it. Draw it out. Touch and taste every part of you. I…God, you feel too good around me.”
Then all I know is the pounding stretch inside me. The quick, rough, perfect stroke of his hands. The sound of my voice begging to come until I’m hoarse.
I turn my head blindly, needing his lips on mine. I need something to ground me. Michael. I need Michael. He kisses me, a messy tangle of tongues and moaning mouths as he takes me with his hand and his cock. I’m surrounded by him. Completely his.
My climax crashes over and into me all at once. I come apart, calling his name against his mouth. Shivering as his shout of release echoes in the shower around me.
I can’t stop shaking, and the word “shipwreck” comes to mind. I’ve been taken over by a force of nature. I’m still breathing, but the only thing that was keeping me afloat has been destroyed, leaving me devastated on the shore.
My body trembles as he keeps stroking my shaft until I give him everything. Until I’m spent and curling weakly against his chest.
Then he rinses me off, wraps a towel around me and carries me out of the shower and down the stairs. I smile when he teases me about something, but inside I’m all shattered planks and torn sails.
Sex doesn’t change you. It relieves tension, releases serotonin and hopefully doesn’t send you to the ER. But it doesn’t make you feel like you found some part of yourself that was missing. It doesn’t fix all your problems. It doesn’t blast a hole in the wall you’ve been building around your heart for years in a single orgasmic blow.