Waiting Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
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And possession of me doesn’t stop there.

No.

Claiming continues as he crashes our tangled bodies into the edge of the bar top, eliciting another sharp breath to be inhaled and then once more stolen.

Wild lashes of his tongue are mirrored by the disorderly steering of our frames that knock us into the kitchen table. The back patio doors. The wall that houses an expensive painting by some artist named McCoy that was a housewarming gift from Nat.

Tumbling onto the couch should untwist our limbs or at the very least prompt the peeling away for repositioning; however, the falling impact only unleashes new, darker hunger.

Makes us greedier.

Causes us to claw and tear at the fabric barriers we equally despise for standing in our way.

Logical thoughts of taking our time, establishing boundaries, or completely consenting regarding what’s to come are silenced by barbarous biting of my neck and the impatient widening of my bent knees. Even the responsible reminder to wrap it before you tap is obliterated due to the undeniable imperativeness to have him diving into depths that haven’t been disinterred by another person in over a year. The initial nudging of his hard cock past my soaking wet entrance arches my back at the same time it flings my tits against his chest, pain and pleasure ignited equally by my hard nipples being crushed. Hisses from the collision transpose into howls of ecstasy as his thick shaft stretches the sopping muscles to limits that they’ve never experienced. Tumultuous thrusting effortlessly throws my body around like a doll made of nothing but air and extra thin stuffing. My fingers struggle to find stability on his sweat slickening form, leaving behind scratches on his pecks and biceps alike. Each scrape unearths not only a primitive growl, but a ferocious hammering led by his frantically heaving hips.

Tate wraps one arm around my lower back, preventing my shuddering frame from escaping the increasingly savage stroking of his cock, prior to animalistically grumbling in Spanish, “Coge este bicho.”

Whether it’s the foreign words or the changed accent or the possession they’re spoken with that makes me wetter is unclear yet figuring out which one got me that way is completely unnecessary.

Surrendering whimpers slip out as a prelude to the screaming of his name that begins to occur courtesy of the feverish brushes of my g-spot and the ceaseless caresses of my clit. Rounds of unfathomable ecstasy are sparked and flamed and fed from limb to limb leaving every muscle, every vein, every single cell in my body sexually blistered. Feelings of his teeth carving up the sensitive skin along the crook of my neck spur me to grind into his unrelenting actions faster.

Mercilessly.

So carelessly and mindlessly that I feel like a primitive being with one and only one need to fulfill.

And when Tate’s other set of fingers pitilessly pull my disheveled locks backwards on the same harsh hit to the hilt, the need is met.

Fucking exceeded.

White-hot constrictions capture his cock and call for it to drown in the orgasmic waves trying to hold it under. The frenetic rocking of my quivering figure is accompanied by hitched breaths and airy blissful sobs, sounds I’ve never made during sex.

Sounds I can’t wait to make again.

And again.

And fucking again until they’re the only ones I know how to make.

Tate’s full lips gently skim the shell of my ear. “Esta chocha es mía.”

Scorching hot streams sear the still thrumming muscles forcing additional screams of his name to be given. “Tate! Tate!”

Groans of approval and gratitude are given in the same location right before another possessively growled Spanish statement, “Coño, no puedo esperar a verte preñada con nuestro bebe.”

Despite the fact I have no idea what he’s saying, I can’t stop myself from mindlessly moaning my agreement, “Yes.”

Happy hums leave him as he winds his arms tightly around my entire body, cradling me like I’m a newly discovered treasure, while his lips inch their way towards mine in a series of sweet, soft kisses.

This is probably the most insane and irresponsible thing I’ve ever done.

Too bad it’s also the most invigorating.

I don’t know how long this’ll last or how long this can last, but one thing is for sure.

I’m in no hurry to have him walk out of my life any more than I’m in a hurry to walk out of his.

Chapter 4

Tate

Is there anything better than just waking up balls deep in your girlfriend?

Yeah.

I didn’t think so.

Harper’s head tips backwards on a moan so lecherous I can hardly believe it’s meant for me and only me.

But it is.

And it will always be.

Through a dreamy eyed gaze – from both being awoken and being ridden – I watch the most luscious, round, toffee-shaded arse slowly drift up and down, hypnotizing me with every single rock. Thick, creamy juices drip down my bare shaft with her pussy instantly racing to reclaim them before they can smear themselves across my balls. The slick muscles maintain their tight hold of my dick despite their increasing slipperiness, and the sensations of incessantly being milked on breathless moan after moan after moan has my legs trembling against the mattress.



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