Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Back and forth on my abs it goes.
Back.
Forth.
My hand—the hand lodged under Teddy’s torso finally makes its way out, feeling along the cotton of her leggings. Lands on her ass.
Settles there, at least momentarily.
Back, her hand caresses.
And forth.
Until it meanders south, grazing the hemline of my shirt. Drifting back up inside it.
Skin on skin.
Palm against my tight abs.
“We should go to sleep.” I sound so pitifully weak.
“We should.” She agrees. Yawns.
Back.
And forth.
My cock throbs, the hand on her ass giving it a little squeeze. Then another, as the muscles in my thighs contract, because every single nerve ending throughout my entire fucking body is humming, alive and alert. Buzzing.
God I want her to touch it.
Fuck, just for a second, and then I can finish myself off in the bathroom.
Christ, what am I saying? I’m not going to jerk myself off with her in the house, as much as I want to.
If only she’d…
Just a little lower…
Please Teddy, please…
I count to ten—then ten again so my goddamn leg doesn’t start bouncing like a jackrabbit’s, tension-filled and nervous.
Slowly I take my hand, working it up her back. Underneath her shirt. Stroking the warm skin of her spine, fingers grazing her side boob. The tits pressed into my ribcage.
For fuck’s sake, please touch it.
Graze it.
Flick it.
Anything.
Christ, I’ve never wanted anyone to touch my dick so bad. Or suck it, or stroke it, or…
Teddy says nothing when the pads of all five of my fingers brush her tender skin again. Only her sharp inhale of breath gives away the fact that she felt it. She holds that breath, waiting.
One second.
Two.
Four.
Five.
Her hand moves.
Down.
God, what is she doing? What are we doing? This is such a bad idea. I don’t want her to stop.
That’s it, Teddy. Lower. Lower. Oh fuck…
***
TEDDY
“That’s it Teddy, lower…” Kip’s low groan cuts into the dark, his guttural plea sexy and deep, hitting me right in the ovaries as he lays still beside me.
God, his voice. His words.
I doubt he realizes he’s even saying them out loud.
Not Kip—he has too much self-control, and he’s kept me firmly at arm’s length the past few weeks. There is no way he would purposely allow this to happen, unless…
Unless he really wanted me to. Or I was making him crazy, which I doubt, because—look at me. I’m the opposite of the girls who hang out at the rugby house. I’m wholesome and studious and, well, virginal.
The feel of Kip’s hard, warm skin beneath my gliding fingertips is amazing. Warm, hot, and cool—all at the same time.
Him lying here motionless, allowing me to explore—it must be driving him insane; even I know that. I’m playing with fire and we both know it.
We should not be doing this.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m the one with my hand practically down Kip’s pants, running my palm along the happy trail I discovered under the soft fabric of his shirt.
I love those.
I think they’re so sexy and masculine.
He obviously doesn’t shave his junk like a lot of guys these days do. Metrosexuals.
His entire body stiffens when I skim the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, trail a path with my hand, back and forth along the fabric. Teasing as I debate what the hell to do next.
One thing is for sure: I should not be doing this.
The thing is…I’ve never done this before. Not with a guy like this. They were boys, really, and it was mostly just making out and some heavy petting. Got fingered only once, in high school, with a kid named Devon, who was just as awkward as I was. Fumbling around in the dark with all our clothes on—two virgins who stayed that way—the closest I’ve gotten to having sex was him sticking his hand down my pants and shoving two fingers up my—
“Lower. Oh fuck, Teddy…”
My name on his lips.
It spurs me on, and suddenly, all I want to do is touch it. No harm in that, right? He obviously wants me to. Feel it. Maybe grip it, run my hand up and down its hard length (like I’ve seen in the few pornos I’ve snuck peeks at) just to see what it’s like.
To hear what he sounds like when I do.
So I know.
I want to know what the other girls know, what it feels like to turn a guy on. What it feels like to make a dick hard. To make him come. The weight of a dick in my hands.
Yeah, that might sound gross, but I’m twenty-one and I have no clue what it feels like to hold one.
I don’t want to be clueless anymore.
Kip seems to be a willing participant now that his dick is rock solid and my hand has somehow gotten wedged inside his boxers. He shifts his hips on the bed, gives a little thrust upward. Even without seeing them, I know he’s flexing his thick thighs.