Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
He pulls my bra out, the straps briefly getting tangled before he throws it on the armchair.
He kisses every bare inch of skin. Neck, collarbone, shoulders, arms, the swells of my breasts. My nipples harden underneath the fabric as his fingers brush past them teasingly. My breath hitches in my throat, needing more from him, wanting more, yet being afraid of getting it.
He drops to his knees. My hands go to his hair, wrapping his locks around my fingers and holding tight because if I don’t, I’ll fall right over.
I peer down at him, stealing a look, watching the muscles in his back move, the tattoos he has back there. I see words I can’t read etched below his shoulder blades.
His head goes back as he stares up at me with an open, wanting expression. His hands trail up my calves, up my thighs, going under my dress and rising up, up, up, his palm shooting electricity into my skin. His eyes never leave mine.
I’m holding my breath. I don’t care. How could anyone breathe through this? I’m afraid if I exhale, everything might blow away, dissolving like a dream.
This is Laz.
On his knees.
Looking up at me like I’m his place of worship.
No matter what happens, don’t forget this. Don’t forget this.
His fingers keep going up the outside of my thighs, wrapping around the lacy edge of my underwear.
He pulls them down, slowly, inch by inch. Even the silky fabric brushing down against my inner thighs makes my body shiver.
I lean into him, step out of them. Slip off my heels.
“Get on the bed,” he says thickly. “On your back.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice so tiny and thin against his. I’m actually glad he’s being bossy, I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.
I go to the bed, lie down on top of the cool covers.
Lift my head and watch as Laz comes to the foot of the bed and gets on it, prowling between my legs which I instinctively open wider for him.
He doesn’t say a word but he gives me a look, a hungry one, an amazed one, and that’s when I slowly lean my head back into the bed, close my eyes, my fingers gripping the covers already in preparation for what’s to come.
Just breathe, I remind myself but then I’m gasping for breath as he parts my legs with his hands and pulls my dress up to my waist so I’m completely exposed and bare for him.
Is this really happening?
This is really happening.
And that’s when I remember that I did shave. Whether it was just stupid luck or wishful thinking, thank god.
Laz groans, his thumbs slowly dragging across the soft flesh of my inner thighs, spreading them further. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is ragged, hushed, low. I feel it in every part of me. I believe it.
It’s enough that I relax. That I take it all in, relish the feel of his hands as they squeeze my skin, parting me.
His head goes between my legs, his stubble scraping like sandpaper against my thighs. His mouth presses against my most sensitive parts.
I gasp, then gasp louder as his tongue slowly snakes out and licks down the middle of me, swirling slowly over my clit with the cool, hard press of his tongue ring.
Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck!
I’ve never had a guy go down on me before. I’ve never met someone who wanted to do it enough to bring it up and I obviously never would. So everything I’m feeling is only what I’ve dreamed of and…fuck. It’s the only word I have for this, this…This is better than what I imagined.
Good lord, if this isn’t a prerequisite for fucking, it should be.
His tongue is wet, warm, firm then soft, the ball of his tongue ring providing constant pressure as he’s licking me up and down.
Like he’s lapping up the most decadent dessert and wants to savor every last bit.
And with each pass of his tongue, my body is shocked, again and again, firecrackers lighting up along each nerve until I’m ready to explode.
Laz moans into me and that just sends me into overdrive. I grab his hair again, which I’ve decided is my favorite thing to do and my thighs gently squeeze the sides of his head, which is now my second favorite thing to do.
He responds by deepening his moan, the vibrations rumbling through me, bringing me to the edge. All my nerves are wrapping tighter and tighter and tighter around themselves, ready to snap, dying to unravel.
“I’m close,” I whisper. I tug at his hair, hard enough to bring up his head. “I’m close,” I tell him again.
He frowns at me between my legs, his mouth wet from my desire. I’m hit with the fact that for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem odd or weird at all. Yes, it’s Laz but…