Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Good boy.
Smart.
“I do,” I say, chin up. “Top drawer.”
Dallas hesitates for a split second before bolting toward the drawer, arm stretching, fingers yanking it open, grabbing the small box of three condoms I got at the gas station several weeks ago at the same time I filled up my tank and bought a lottery ticket.
He tears the box open.
Pulls one out, ripping the package.
I watch, transfixed, as he rolls it onto his dick, pulling it down to the base.
God, he’s sexy.
A work of art, really.
He reaches for me, but I shove him back, push him so he’s lying down, back pressed into the mattress.
Mine.
At least for the night anyway.
“I want to be on top.”
He nods, arms wide and waiting. “Yes, ma’am.”
So polite.
So Texan.
I straddle him the same way I was straddling him in the living room, but this time we’re both completely naked and our intentions are clear: we are going to have sex.
I initiated it. I want it.
His hands have me by the waist, and his eyes watch my face.
Am I ready for this?
Am I ready to have him inside me?
Will this change things? Will he treat me differently when I walk into class this week, or will it stay the same?
It’s not too late to change your mind, Ryann.
I don’t want to change my mind.
I want to have sex, and I want it with him.
Slowly, I move over him, teasing his penis with the slit in my pussy, rubbing up and down, turning myself on. His cock throbs and gets thicker beneath me.
I haven’t had a ton of sex before, but nature and instincts tell me what to do more than my own past experience, and I gasp in surprise when I inch down onto him.
It hurts a little—more than I thought it would, causing me to pause before easing farther.
Dallas doesn’t move, hands still holding my hips steady, brows rising.
He has what I refer to as sex face.
Red skin, parted lips, frantic eyes.
He’s controlling himself well, but the eyes don’t lie—he’s incredibly turned on right now, this body that’s used to stamina and adrenaline.
I can see the rush.
He’s breathing in and out, and I can almost see him counting—like how a person counts sheep when they’re trying to sleep, but in this case, it’s to refocus so he doesn’t start thrusting.
Weird how you can learn a person when you hang out with them casually, no pressure added, not trying to force it the way people do when they’re entering a relationship—determined to find things in common, determined to be compatible.
Dallas and I just…
Are.
I hover above him, hands braced on his shoulders, leaning closer so I can put them on the pillows on either side of his head, his dick fully inside me.
I move slowly, getting used to it.
Lean back—
Nope, too deep.
Move my hips, shifting forward and back, watching his face because I can’t seem to help myself.
His lips are still parted, so I kiss them, our tongues wet and wanting, almost desperate.
Dirty kisses during sex are my new favorite thing, and Dallas gives it to me good, sticking his dick and his tongue deep, one hand behind my ass, the other behind my head, pulling me closer.
Pulling me in so our foreheads touch, kissing and fucking—fucking and kissing, the frantic make-out session only getting me wetter, if that were possible.
How can kissing during sex make someone more turned on than they already are?
His eyes are so dark.
So serious.
Mouth pouty.
Dallas’s palm moves from my ass to my breast, cupping it while he thrusts up, finally able to now that I’m used to the size of his cock. We fall into a rhythm.
In sync.
Back and forth, back and forth…
So good.
So wet.
He’s sweaty, perspiration on his forehead.
“Are you trying not to come?” I muse out loud, the expression on his face undeniably straight-up panicked.
He nods. “I’m trying not to.”
“Good.” Because you came already, and it would hardly be fair if only one of us got off the second time around…
“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters. “I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
You’re not going to be able to let me go, are you? I think to myself, staring down at him, bending to kiss him again, his greedy hands still on my boobs and body.
Tight.
Wet.
Heaven.
I bite on my bottom lip, tempted to say something dirty, knowing he’d get off on it but having no practice.
He’s being so patient; I want to surprise him with sexy words, surprise him by shifting myself back so I’m sitting, riding him slowly. His eyes go straight to my boobs.
Hands follow.
I toss my hair.
“You like that?” I moan, covering his hands with mine.
He gulps. “Yes.”
“Am I the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Your dick feels so good.”
Dallas parts his lips. Nods.
“You wanna come, don’t you?”
Nods again.
I grind my hips, imagining I’m a sexy porn star, fucking my man so he never thinks of another woman again when he closes his eyes. I want it to be my face he remembers when he wakes up in the morning; I want it to be me he looks for when he’s out at the bars.