Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
I lift my hips to grind against him, linking my ankles behind his back. “Fuck me. Please.”
“Mm.” Rossi looks so blissed-out he can barely talk. He buries his face in my neck, sucking a spot into my skin, and he starts to fuck me with slow, sensual rolls of his hips. My hands map out every contour, every muscle movement in his back. They run along his spine, grip his shoulders, hold him to me while he brings every nerve alive.
Goddamn, he’s perfect. I love that I get to share this with him. But I have a feeling it wouldn’t matter if I’d been fucked a hundred times already; I’m going to remember this always.
“Oh, holy shit …” I tighten my legs around him, trying to encourage him faster. He grunts as he pulls back, and before I can stop him, he pulls out of me.
“What are you …”
He shoves my hip. “Turn.”
I quickly roll onto my side, and he closes in behind me.
“Sexy, so sexy,” he murmurs as he slides back inside. He lifts my top leg and buries his other hand into my hair, turning my head so he can kiss me.
His mouth is hungry, demanding, as he starts to fuck me with purpose.
It all comes down to heavy breathing and low gasps, racing hearts and bodies slick with sweat, moving desperately against each other. I push back to meet every thrust, needing more, more …
Rossi rolls us both, pushing me facedown into the mattress and blanketing me with his body. He starts to grunt with each thrust, hips smacking hard against my ass, reaching that spot inside that’s making my whole body tremble.
The sounds falling from his lips, his hands on my skin, the low, graveling timber of his voice as he cries out my name.
I scramble to reach beneath me and grasp my cock. My sheets are a mess of precum as I start to jack myself off. I’m already close, tipping closer and closer to the edge, my brain disconnecting, my body humming, balls drawing up tight, and then …
“Nrg.” I cry out as my orgasm crashes into me, each throb of my cock bringing relief, as Rossi continues to pound into me.
“I’m close … so close …”
I keep pushing back into him, my prostate becoming oversensitive. Rossi’s arms tighten around me, and I tilt my head to the side in time to see him come.
His eyes flutter closed, and his mouth falls open as his body stiffens.
The feel of his cock twitching inside me is incredible, and even when the overwhelming need fizzles away, I already know I want to do that again.
He drops against me, boneless, and hopefully feeling as incredible as I do.
“Tell me I lived up to your imagination,” he jokes, still catching his breath.
“You did.” I reach behind me and hold him before he can pull out. “But I’m not done yet.”
“Wha—I thought you came?”
“I did.” My eyes fall closed against my pillow, but I still don’t release him. “But stay there. For as long as you can. You have no idea how good it feels with you inside me.”
I could fall asleep like this. Thoroughly fucked and still full of him. There’s something so intimate about feeling his pubes tickling my ass, my body stretched around him, that I don’t often feel from sex.
He brushes my hair back and presses a kiss to my temple, then settles against my back. “Not sure how long I can manage this.”
“I’ll take whatever I can get.”
I’m starting to think that applies to more than sex.
It’s him.
It’s the way he makes me feel.
It’s his confidence and bashfulness, his hard body and soft smiles.
I want it all.
Whatever he’s ready to give.
Chapter 10
ROSSI
Tyson’s hand moves down my chest, lower and lower until—
I catch it and grip tight. “You’re doing this because I said I have to go, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I’m innocent. It’s just so hard not to touch you.”
“Mmhmm, sure. It has nothing to do with trying to entice me to stay. Again?”
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I have to drag my ass out of Tyson’s bed and get home for family dinner. I had every intention of leaving yesterday after I bought Tyson breakfast while he was still asleep, but then he woke up and insisted on thanking me for dicking him out—his words not mine—and that’s how I ended up staying another thirty-something hours in his bed. On top of him. Blowing him. Fucking him. Making each other come.
It’s safe to say I can no longer claim not to know how to get another guy off. I’m sure my skills could use some fine-tuning, but Tyson definitely isn’t complaining.
No, he wants more. The dude doesn’t stop. Though, I’m not complaining about that either.
Tyson rolls onto his back and pouts. “Fine. I’ll let you go home. I guess.”