End of Story (End of Story #1) Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors: Series: End of Story Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
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“You’re wet,” he murmured.

“Can’t imagine how that happened.”

“Widen your stance.”

I did as told.

His teeth pressed into my shoulder as his fingertip trailed along the seam of my labia. Back and forth. A tremble worked its way through me. When he stuck two fingers and his thumb into his mouth and wet them...holy shit, that was hot. Men had done intimate things with me before. Though with Lars it was different. How tight he held me. The bite on my shoulder. His general intensity. I don’t know. And then he slid those fingers deep inside me and pressed on my clit with the pad of his thumb. He finger fucked me like a pro.

And then he stopped.

“Wait,” I whined. “Lars.”

“You come on me this time.” And he was so damn calm about it. Like denial was ever okay when it came to me and orgasms. But he just turned his back, walked into the bedroom, and lay down on the mattress. If it wasn’t for the hard-on pointing at the ceiling you would think he was about to take a nap. “Hurry up.”

“Bossy bastard.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Grab a condom,” he ordered.

With one hand tucked behind his head and his cast resting on his chest, he watched me. My skin turned to gooseflesh at the lust in his gaze. And I needed to remember to ask the man for nudes one of these days. Because even when battered he was beautiful. I grabbed the correct-sized condom out of the bedside drawer and carefully straddled his hips. The bruise on his side was still huge. I needed to be careful and keep my knees to myself. Once the wrapper was opened, I tossed it aside, and rolled the prophylactic down him with care.

Being on top was one of my favorite positions. What’s not to like? You get a great view and complete control, even if you do have to do all the work.

I took his cock in my hand and lined it up with my opening, sinking down on him nice and slowly. The feel of him filling me was wonderful. My pussy clenched and he hissed. The man was lucky I had strong thighs. Because I couldn’t place my hands on him for leverage. And he was so damn tall I couldn’t quite reach the bedhead. This would definitely count as a workout for my core.

Then he winced and I froze. “What’s wrong? Lars?”

“Nothing. Ride me.”

I exhaled and rocked on him gently. When he didn’t show any obvious signs of discomfort or agony, I rocked on him harder. Rising and falling just a little. Squeezing him again with my internal muscles. All the while, he watched me with a mix of tenderness and possession in his gaze. My face and breasts and belly. My thighs and cunt. Strong hands gripped my thighs, giving them a squeeze, testing the flesh with his fingers. Then he raised his upper half a little and smacked me on the ass, making me squeak.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Getting to be around you has been the only good thing about this week.” The man winced and smiled. “Harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you’re hurting me, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Now do as you’re told and ride me harder. You know you want to.”

He was right. I really did. The feel of him so solid inside of me. How he dragged over all my good places as I rose. Then the sweet shock of impaling myself on that thick length. Over and over again. Harder and faster. Nothing could be better than losing myself with him. His jaw shifted and his nostrils flared. The tension low in my belly spread throughout me. Like a light working its way through me. I was all heat and motion, reaching for that thrill, until it got so bright I was blinded. I came with a gasp and he gripped my thigh, pulling me down on him and holding me there. Like there was anywhere else I wanted to be. His cock surged inside of me, pumping out his cum as he groaned. This was it. This was what I needed. The world far away and just him being near.

I think I died a little. It is called the little death in French. It made sense.

Beneath me, he made a wheezing sound. “Susie.”

“Shit.” I carefully climbed off and sat on the mattress at his side. He was in no condition for a well-fucked woman to collapse on top of him. Seriously. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Lars. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine now.” He smiled and dealt with the condom. Wrapping it in a Kleenex and depositing it on the bedside table. “You’re on my good side. Lie down. Put your head on my shoulder.”

“Are you sure?”

He just waited.

After-sex cuddles were weird. With some partners, once the deed was done, you just wanted them gone. Wanted to get your space back. But with others, wasting a couple of hours on room service and a hot tub would be divine. Lars was of the latter variety. He smelled good and felt good and I was happy. There’d been no cuddling of late due to his injuries, but cuddling with Lars felt a lot like Christmas. And there were all those feelings again, making my heart feel too big for my ribs. Like with all of this his sweet words and great sex, the organ might break out of its bone cage.


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