Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
I feel more than a little awkward as I let her lead me out of the bathroom. When I see that she wants to go out into the living room, I dig my heels in.
“Oh, no no no,” I say. “Those windows—let me at least draw the curtains—”
“Don’t you dare.” Glancing over her shoulder, she smirks. “Like you said, we’re hot as fuck. Let them see. Better yet, let them watch.”
“Watch what?”
She cocks a brow. “The show we’re about to put on.”
Then she gives my arm a hard tug, and together we stumble into the middle of the living area. The inky-black darkness fills the windows; no doubt the people below could see everything if they looked up.
You wouldn’t know it by the way Ava begins to dance. She throws up her arms and bites her lips and moves, hips carving slow, deep circles in time to the music.
A rush of blood sends my dick full salute. I never recover this quickly.
I also never have naked girls dancing in my living room.
Her hair is still in a clip, allowing me a glimpse of her long, lean neck. I’m gripped by the very real urge to wrap my hand around her nape and hold her still while I pump into her.
She twines her arms above her head. Turning, she beckons me to join her, her eyes pure liquid fire as she crooks a finger.
The music plays. My blood runs hot. I’m already leaking everywhere, the drip of my pre-cum hot on my skin. Being around a free spirit like Ava is medicine I didn’t know I needed.
Fuck it.
Turning to the table by the door, I rip open the pack of cigarettes and tuck one behind my ear. Toss a handful of condoms onto the nearby couch.
Then I pop open the second bottle of champagne. This time, I don’t bother with cups. I take a thirsty swig, wiping my chin as I watch Ava sway her hips, her tits impossibly full and soft and beautiful as they sway with her.
I take another sip of champagne. Feeling the beginnings of a renewed buzz in my knees, I stride into the center of the room, curl an arm around her waist, and start to dance with her.
I close my eyes, and I move like I’m not dancing buck naked in a life-sized fishbowl.
The deep, throaty sound of her laughter fills my ears. I slip a leg between hers, my skin feeling two sizes too tight as she grinds against me, this steady, athletic roll of her hips that has me grabbing the back of her head and pulling her in for a hard, rough kiss.
Who the fuck am I? I wonder, opening my eyes. Was this unhinged exhibitionist inside me this whole time? Or did Ava bring him to life?
She laughs into the kiss, pulling back to nod at the bottle. “I’ll take some of that, please.” Then she opens her mouth and tilts back her head.
Goddamn this girl is fun.
I pour into her mouth, trying to be careful. But it still spills everywhere, and she cups her hand underneath her chin in a futile effort to catch it.
“Aw, pretty girl, I thought you were better at swallowing than that,” I say, laughing.
“How ’bout you show me how good you are at swallowing? On your knees, Sawyer.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down.
The carpet bites into my kneecaps. Not like I give a shit. Not when Ava is grinning down at me, using her fingers to tip back my chin. She holds up the bottle and pours champagne into my waiting mouth.
Again, it goes everywhere. All over my face. My chest. Her belly.
Again, I laugh, feeling stupid happy as I grab her by the hips and yank her to me, pressing a scruffy kiss to her stomach. She seizes with laughter, clearly ticklish, bending at the waist as her free hand finds my head.
My dick throbs as I kiss my way to her pussy. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a blinking red light move across the nearby window. An airplane, maybe, or a helicopter.
The idea that we might actually be watched is … really fucking hot.
“You wanna give ’em a show?” I look up at her and use my hand to guide her thighs apart. “Let’s give ’em a show.”
The last thing I see before I lick into her slit is Ava bringing the bottle to her lips, her eyes alive with laughter. Her breath catches when I flick her clit with my tongue again and again.
Zach Top comes on next.
Because of fucking course Ava is a Zach Top fan. He’s only my most played artist on Spotify. As a fan of ’90s country, I love his throwback vibe to the days of classic George Strait and Tim McGraw.