Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
The cutie with the dark stare shrugs a shoulder as if to say, “Whenever works for you,” and I glance down to the professor, realizing the debate on mental health is still in full swing. It will no doubt run past the end of class, and that’s not exactly how I anticipate spending the rest of my Tuesday afternoon, not when I could have seven or eight inches of dick crammed inside of me. At least, I’m assuming he’s got that much. That cockiness only comes when you know you’re a sure thing, and this guy, he seems like a sure thing.
Throwing caution to the wind, I shrug right back at him as a dorky smile flitters across my face. “Okay, yeah,” I mouth, and with that, we both start packing away our things.
I shove my laptop into my bag, and when I go to put my phone away, I find a new message from Chloe.
Chloe: You’re an asshole.
My dorky smile morphs into a wicked grin as I finish packing away my things, and as I sling my bag over my shoulder and get to my feet, I get busy typing out a response.
Tilly: Says the one who suggested I could go into porn after my unfortunate live-waxing incident over the weekend.
Chloe: HOW IS IT MY FAULT THAT YOU HAVE A PRETTY VAGINA?
I mask a laugh as I make my way up the stairs and to the back exit of the auditorium and just as the big door closes behind me, my new friend steps through the second door. His gaze immediately comes to me.
“You sure, baby?”
A sultry smile creeps across my face as I make my way toward him, realizing just how tall he is. “I’ve got an itch that’s in desperate need to be scratched.”
His brow arches, reading the hunger in my eyes as he meets me in the middle. “Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a woman in need?”
“That’s the spirit,” I laugh.
His hand immediately falls into mine to pull me along. “Come on,” he mutters, his deep tone filled with need. “I know just the place.”
Within seconds, he pushes through the door of the deserted female bathrooms and into a small stall at the end of the aisle. “Seriously?” I question. It’s not my style, but it’s also not the worst place I’ve been screwed.
That same cocky grin stretches across his face. “Nobody uses these bathrooms. They’re deserted ninety percent of the time. Plus, I figured it was better than the men’s rooms. Not to mention, you don’t strike me as the kind who’s looking to be wined and dined first,” he tells me, locking the door behind us and grabbing my waist.
He throws me up against the stall wall, and my pussy immediately clenches with approval. “Fuck,” I breathe. “I’m not.”
“Good. Neither am I,” he rumbles, his dark gaze sailing over my body and lingering on my shirt before reading out the words. “Tattoos, pretty eyes, and thick thighs. Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think this is your shirt.”
I grin as his knee pushes between my thighs, and I reach for his shirt. “You don’t think I have pretty eyes or thick thighs?”
“Fuck no,” he says, taking the front of my jeans and popping the button.
“How would you describe them?”
“Which ones? The eyes or the thighs?”
“Eyes.”
He gazes at me a moment, as if really considering his response. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” His lips come down on my neck, and I groan, his tongue already working its magic. “Your eyes . . . They’re hypnotic,” he continues. “Seductive. Wicked. Captivating. Pretty doesn’t do them justice. You could bring a man to his knees with those eyes.”
“Smooth talker, I see.” I toss his shirt away before reaching for his pants, already feeling the strain of his thick cock within. “And what about the thighs?” I ask, unable to keep from noticing just how well he takes care of himself. His body is next to perfect, almost like a younger version of the silver fox at Vixen.
I feel his grin against my neck as he works my jeans down past my hips. “That’s a fucking trap, babe,” he tells me, and I can’t help but laugh. I’m five foot two and petite. The last thing I have is thick thighs, but I’m also delusional and like to pretend that I hit at least a few of the top beauty standards. “You got ass, but don’t be fooling yourself. You and I know these thighs ain’t thick. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want them wrapped around my head.”
A stupid smirk pulls across my lips. I wouldn’t mind them being wrapped around his head either, but first I need to see if he’ll be worth my time. There’s no doubting it, this guy is fun. He seems like the kind who’d make a night out unforgettable, but that doesn’t mean he’s capable of relieving me of this intense itch. I have high hopes though. And in about ten seconds, I’m going to get the answers I’m looking for.