Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“You could help,” she pointed out.
I licked my lips. “I can.”
She giggled as she reached for my hand and guided it to her shirt.
I struggled with the tiny ass buttons, slipping them out of their holes one exaggeratedly slow minute at a time.
“Stupid fucking buttons,” I muttered. “Why are they so small?”
She started to giggle uncontrollably, which only made the tiny enclosures even harder to work with.
I got the fourth one and her shirt gaped open, baring her naked chest.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” I pointed out lamely.
So smooth, dumbass.
“I, uh, don’t really have big breasts, Creed. What would be the point of wearing a bra, especially when I’m supposed to be limiting movement, when the bra itself won’t even be doing anything?” she questioned.
The reminder of her ailment had me freezing with my hands on the fifth button.
“Come on,” she urged. “You said you could be gentle, remember?”
I had said that.
But…
She pushed my hand away and did the rest herself, one-handed, in half the time it’d taken me to do four.
I watched, my mouth dry as the Sahara, as she slipped every button free and allowed the shirt to fall off her shoulders.
She was right.
She was on the smaller side.
But they were the perfect handful…
She leaned into my touch as I cupped both of her breasts in my hands.
My thumb automatically went to her nipple.
She shivered as the pad grazed over her.
“Creed,” she whispered.
“Justin,” I begged. “Call me Justin. Just for tonight.”
Her eyes were on fire as she leaned into me, her mouth only inches from my own, and whispered, “Justin.”
I shuddered at the words. At hearing my name leave those perfect, luscious lips.
I smoothed her shirt off her shoulders, being careful to take my time as I helped the sleeves over her bandaged arm. When it was all the way off and lying discarded on the floor, I leaned forward and caught one nipple between my teeth and flicked it with the tip of my tongue.
She hissed, jerking.
“Ah-ah-ah,” I scolded her, my teeth letting her go. “You can’t move like that.”
She let out a shuddering breath, but the jerking calmed, and she leaned into the touch. “I need to remove those pants. You look hot.”
“You are teasing me, yes,” I agreed as I moved to do just that, being careful not to jerk her around too much on my lap. “But you have no idea how hot I am. If I wasn’t wearing deodorant right now, I’d smell like a pre-pubescent boy that doesn’t know the meaning of hygiene.”
“You should’ve woken me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” she murmured quietly as I shoved my pants down and off.
When I was sitting in nothing but my bare skin, she leaned forward and placed both of her hands on my chest.
My entire body locked at having her bare skin touching mine.
I’d wanted this for a while.
Now that she was finally giving it to me, I felt like I was in a dream.
Like I was having an out-of-body experience.
“You’re pretty sweaty,” she teased as she smoothed her hands up the length of my chest. “I don’t think I have any way to cool you down, though.” She leaned forward and blew on my chest and face. “Does this help?”
“I think that might be heating me up,” I said as I caught her around the waist and stood.
She squeaked at the sudden change in positions, but didn’t protest when I divested her of her socks, jeans, and underwear.
I didn’t give her too much time to freak out, though, and shoved my underwear to the floor.
When we were both fully naked, I pulled her back down into my lap, oh, so gently. Then caught the blanket off the back of the couch and covered the both of us up.
She shivered in delight at the feel of my bare body against hers.
“I’ve thought about this. With you. For a long time,” she admitted as she pressed a kiss to my throat.
I smoothed my hands up her bare back and tried really hard not to think about how hot and wet she was between those pretty thighs.
“Justin,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
Twenty-Five
Arguing is pointless. I knew I was wrong ten minutes ago. Now I’m just trying to make you mad.
—Birdee to Creed
Birdee
I could feel his cock, hard and hot, splitting my seam.
My wetness coated him where he touched me, and it took everything I had not to rock against him and urge him on.
I had a feeling that he was hanging on by a thread, and I didn’t want to push him too hard.
He would be devastated if he lost control.
And I wanted him to never regret this—what we were about to share.
However, I was dying.
I needed him to touch me in the worst way.
“Justin.” I sounded breathy, even to my own ears. “Touch me.”