I is for Ian – Men of ALPHAbet Mountain Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
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“I think we could fit,” she said, opening the curtain further.

My jaw dropped.

I had seen it in a fantasy, but nothing compared to real life.

Soap covered most of her body, rising in mounds of bubbles on one shoulder and sliding down one breast, collecting in the center of her chest and then making their way down to her left hip. It was mesmerizing watching them fall in rivulets across her body, and I probably could have stayed rooted in that spot and watched them all day.

Then she raised her arm and pointed a finger at me, then turned it in a “come here” motion. The combination of that gesture, the grin on her face, the way her eyes burned into mine, and the slick, reflective way her skin glowed got my feet moving without bothering to ask my brain. I was drawn to her like a moth to flame, and there was nothing I could have done even if I wanted to stop it.

I reached for the curtain and pulled it aside, stepping in and settling under the water. As I pulled the curtain closed again, the shower grew dark, just the tiniest bit of yellow light coming through above. She was still visible but deliciously shadowed, and I reached out to touch her, to guide my eyes in seeing what they could barely make out.

Touching her shoulders, I ran my hands down her arms slowly, and she closed the space between us with a single step. She raised up on her toes to kiss me, and the water began to pound on the back of my neck. As our lips locked, she reached behind me and grabbed the bar of soap that was there and began to slowly lather me, starting on my shoulders and moving to my chest.

When our lips parted, her eyes trailed down, and she took her time running her fingers across my chest and stomach, fingertips trailing between the muscles and delighting in the touch. I felt that delight too. I didn’t mind taking our time this time around. I would go until the water went cold.

Her soapy hand slowly dipped low and massaged me there for a moment lathering me up between the legs. I groaned, and she reached up to kiss me again.

She began to stroke me, gently as my hands ran over her chest. One filled with her breast, and the other reached behind her, sliding down to fill with her ass cheek. We turned a little so the water was pounding on my chest, and it washed away the soap on my center and off her front as well. Gently, she pulled me away from the water and switched places with me so her back was under the stream.

Then she lowered herself in front of me.

The vision that I had in this same shower days before couldn’t compare to the real thing. As her lips closed over the head of my cock, I nearly came. She was gentle with her touch but firm in her desire. She wanted me to release again and was going to do what she could to get it.

Fingers slid underneath and massaged me while her other hand wrapped around the base of my staff. She stroked me into her mouth as she looked up at me with eyes that begged for satisfaction. I filled my hand with her hair and guided her back and forth in a rhythm that made my knees weak and my other hand reach for purchase on the tiled wall of the shower.

I let my head fall back for a moment and concentrated solely on the way her lips pursed around me. The way her tongue slid under the sensitive head and flicked at it. The way she stroked me into her and moaned with each increasingly fast movement.

“Not yet,” I said. “Stand up.”

She obeyed my request which only made me want to please her more. She was a woman who was used to giving orders, that was plain to see. But she seemed to enjoy doing what I asked.

I pushed her against the wall and lowered to my own knees. I pulled one of her legs up and over my shoulder so her thigh rested there. I heard her gasp as my tongue flicked out and tasted her, sliding along her lips and then through her folds. She reached down to take a handful of my hair, but she offered no guidance. It was like she was holding on for dear life.

Placing one finger at her entrance, I gently massaged her clit. She cried out, and I plunged my finger inside. She nearly fell, her knees unable to hold her weight as she tensed her stomach and curled over. I increased the speed of my tongue and began to rub the pad of my finger against her upper wall.



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