Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Ride my face, Ro. I want you dripping down my cheeks and throat.”
I sure as hell didn’t have riding Dawson Sinclair’s face on my bingo card.
He brings me down onto him, and without even thinking, my body moves of its own accord. His nose hits my clit in just the right way, and my first orgasm comes out of nowhere. Dawson open-mouth kisses my pussy as he mumbles praise against my sensitive flesh. I can’t even form coherent thoughts once he starts fucking me with his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Give me more.” His fingers bite into my flesh as he sucks my clit before pressing down with his tongue to push in and out of my entrance. I’m nothing but an exposed nerve at this point. I’m screaming so loudly and shaking so badly, I almost cry in relief when my second release hits.
But Dawson doesn’t relent.
He continues to tongue my entrance, lapping up my release as he squeezes my ass, pulling my cheeks apart, which causes a hell of a stretch for my asshole and prolongs my pleasure. I haven’t ever heard half the noises that are leaving my lips, but the lewd sounds of him eating me have me craving more. I press down on his tongue, wanting him deeper inside me as I lean back, one hand landing on his stomach, while the other meets his hard cock.
I look behind me to find him peeking out the top of his shorts, and my mouth waters at the sight of precome at the tip. I twist slightly to take hold of him, my fingers not even making it around his length, and tug roughly. He arches into my touch, groaning against my center, and I’m reeling at how much I love that he craves my touch.
Next thing I know, I’m on my back, and he’s kissing up my stomach. “Dawson,” I whine as he presses his cock into my center. His stupid shorts are in the way, and when I try to move them, he pins my hand above my head. “Please, I want you inside me.”
His eyes roll to the back of his head as he visibly trembles. “Ro, baby,” he mutters against my lips. “Slow down.”
“I want you.”
“Fuck, heart-stopper, please,” he says as if he’s being tortured. “We—”
My eyes lock with his, and I’m in awe of the pure heat and need in his eyes. But his actions aren’t lining up with what I see. “Do you not want me?”
He presses his cock into me, each hard, delicious inch making it real difficult to remember to breathe. “I fucking want you. Shit, I need you.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, his eyes pleading with mine. “Let me just take care of you—”
“I have some in my room.” Dawson presses his lips together, his eyes burning into mine. “I want you inside me.” He licks his lips, but I can still see hesitation and I don’t understand why. Does he not want me? But even as I think that, I know that’s not it. He just devoured me and ruined me for the rest of my life. I can feel him throbbing against me. I can see in his eyes he wants me, but why isn’t he taking what we both need?
It doesn’t make sense.
Feeling self-conscious, thinking I may be making this into something it’s not, I say, “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Just tell me—”
“I want to,” he says, cutting me off, his eyes still locked with mine. His fingers move along my ribs, his cock nestled against me like he belongs right there and nowhere else. “I want you—only you, Ambrosia.”
I feel his words in my soul, but I also feel like he isn’t telling me everything. I move my hand up his neck and cup his jaw. “Then why aren’t you balls deep inside me?”
His neck strains against my touch, and he licks his lips as he sits back. He pulls me up and into his arms before he helps me to my feet. Our fingers thread together like it’s their purpose to be intertwined. I pull him with me, walking backward toward my room. He watches me as he follows, worrying his lip while I guide us toward my bed.
He drinks me in with my skirt stuck at my hips and my chest heaving. My boobs aren’t all the way out, but they’re on their way. He licks his lips, and I do the same, drinking him in. His shorts ride low on his hips, his cock hard and tenting the material. His shirt is all wrinkled, and you can see where I have yanked at it. It also has a wet spot on it that I’m assuming is from me.
Sorry, not sorry.
When the backs of my legs hit my bed, I reach out, pushing his shorts down to release him. As I suspected, he’s packing one hell of a weapon, and I’m obsessed with it. He’s long, he’s thick, and while I know it’s going to be a struggle to get inside me, I am here for the stretch. My mouth waters at the sight, and I want him in my pussy and in my mouth. He pushes his shorts down just as I wrap my palm around his thick cock. But to my surprise, before I can stroke him, he catches my wrist to stop me. Our eyes meet in a clash of desire, heat, and vulnerability.