Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I’m going to fuck this mouth,” I murmur. “I want to feel the inside of your throat.”
His supple lips part, and his tongue sticks out, eager for my taste. Because he’s being such a good boy, I reward him with a lick. It’s enough to have him thirsting for more because he grabs my thigh with his free hand and leans forward.
“Yes,” I rasp out. “Your mouth was made to suck dick.”
His nostrils flare but he opens wider. I flex my hips, cursing when the tip of my dick pushes past the resistant back of his throat. The muscles in his throat constrict as a gag works its way up. I stroke my fingers down his arm that’s handcuffed to my headboard, a gentle lover’s caress that directly contrasts the way I begin to fuck his throat.
Fingers dig into my thigh hard enough to bruise, so I let up and meet his gaze, giving him a second to tap out. His pupils are wide, and he’s blissed-out with need.
“You’re good at this,” I croon. “You want to please me, don’t you?”
He nods once, and it’s small, but I see it. Callan Kincaid enjoys fighting, but he doesn’t always want to win. Right now, he wants me to win. I thrust my hips again, driving my dick deep into his throat. It’s hot and tight. I wonder what it would feel like to press into his ass. To stretch his body to accommodate my thickness.
“So fucking perfect,” I praise. “Yesss.”
He hums around my dick as his hand clutches my ass. I lose myself to the sheer pleasure his perfect mouth gives. When I get close to coming, I jerk back, my dick bouncing against his lips.
“I’m going to come on your face.” I grip my slick cock and tap his lips harder. “You deserve it for making me chase you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he murmurs, though I can tell it pains him to do so.
“Stroke it.” I release my dick to run my fingers through his messy dark hair.
His eyes flutter closed as he grips my shaft. He easily slides up and down around my length since I’m still wet from his mouth. I thread my fingers through the hand that’s hooked to the handcuffs and fuck his fist with fervor.
“Fuck yes,” I groan. “I want to come all over your face, baby. I want you so goddamn messy.”
His hot breaths rush out quick and ragged, tickling over my still-wet dick. It doesn’t take long before I’m releasing with a snarled curse of his name. Cum shoots out, splattering over his cheek and lips. Another spurt hits his forehead. Beautiful.
“Look at you,” I murmur, planting my ass on his chest as I bring my fingers to the cum on his skin. “So fucking hot with my cum all over you.”
“You’re a filthy bastard,” he grumbles.
“Don’t say that like you’re not into it.” I wink at him and then climb off to fetch him a wet cloth. When I return, I clean off his face and then my dick. “Ready for more?”
“If you don’t unlock these cuffs and let me piss, we’re going to have a serious problem.”
I chuckle as I make my way over to my jeans on the floor. “Fine. Take your piss. Shower if you want. But after, we’ll have breakfast.”
“And talk?”
“We have to.”
His brow furrows, but he nods. I fetch the handcuff key and then unlock him. He pulls his hand from the metal, flexing his wrist back and forth to stretch. I help him to his feet, dropping my gaze to his lips.
“I’m not done with you.” I drift my eyes up. “Not by a longshot.”
I don’t think I’ll ever be.
I’m just plating some eggs and toast when my grumpy ray of sunshine stalks into the kitchen. He’s freshly showered and smells like my body wash. The scent of him—me all over his body—makes me want to pin him to the counter and claim him with a deep kiss.
But he’s pissed.
He’s hot when he’s angry. Really hot.
His juicy pink lips are pouted, and his hazel eyes gleam with fury. Unbothered by his attitude problem, I carry our food into the dining room. After setting down the plates, I fetch us some coffee. By the time I reach the table again, he’s already sitting and poking his eggs with a fork.
“Eat your eggs,” I grunt out, enjoying the way his nostrils flare in response.
His intense eyes land on mine, pinning me in place as he makes an exaggerated show of eating his eggs. It’s amusing to me watching him be a little brat. Little does he know, it turns me on. I’m going to have so much fun with Callan. Once he gives in, of course. We’re almost there.
“So,” I say in a conversational tone. “How’s the crime life? Everything you’d hoped it would be and more?”