Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
And then his tongue pushes into my core with the perfect mixture of tenderness and hunger and my eyes roll back into my head as the disco unicorns return with a vengeance. He licks and sucks and teases through each previously unexplored fold, claiming every inch of territory between my legs for his own. At first, I’m torn between abject delight and concern that he’s going to find me unsavory in some way, but by the time he grips my ass in his big hands, leveraging me closer to his tongue and devouring me like a particularly juicy slice of watermelon, I’m shameless and wild.
I grind up into his mouth, panting for breath as I transform into a human bottle rocket and shoot into the sky, shattering in a noisy explosion of sparks and “God, Sam, yes, Sam” that make me grateful my parents are still on the other side of town.
He emerges from his bliss-inducing exploration to kiss me on the lips, sending the salty, ocean-creature taste of my own arousal tingling through my mouth. To my surprise, it isn’t a bad taste. Not even a little bit.
It’s a sexy, earthy taste that makes me eager to do a little exploring of my own…
“My turn,” I say, tugging open his fly and shoving his pants down around his hips as best I can with one foot. “I want to taste you.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, cupping my breast and finding my already tingling nipple. “You don’t have to. No pressure at all. I love making you come on my mouth. I’ll do it every day and twice on Sunday, if you’ll let me, and you never have to return the favor.”
“It’s not a favor, it’s a calling,” I insist, rolling him over onto his back, so starved for a taste of him that I don’t feel self-conscious about the fact that I’m naked and straddling a nearly naked man’s hips for the first time in my life. I reach down, fisting his long, lovely cock in my hand and stroking it up and down, grinning as it twitches in my fingers and Sam lets out a long, tortured groan that assures me he finds my touch every bit as magical as I find his.
I scoot lower on the bed, holding his gaze as I bring my lips level with the glorious erection pulsing in my hand. I have no idea what I’m doing, but Sam looks completely enthralled, so mesmerized I suddenly feel certain that I’m going to rock his world. All I have to do is follow my instincts and lean into things that make him look like he’s being slowly, deliciously tortured to death.
Grinning at the thought, I drag my tongue up his length, savoring the clean, salty taste of him nearly as much as the moan I wrench from low in his throat.
I lick him again, swirling my tongue around his swollen tip at the end. I’m about to see how much of him I can fit into my mouth when a voice calls out from the front of the house, “Jessica, it’s Dad. Vicky had the baby!” and I come fully out of my skin with terror.
“My father! Get dressed!” I hiss, bolting off the bed so fast that I fall down and end up struggling into my khakis on the carpet like a turtle trapped on its back as I call, “Great news, Dad, be right there. I was just…”
“Playing chess,” Sam supplies as he hauls up his pants and tugs on his shirt with a speed that gives me hope we’re going to escape this mess without getting caught. “To keep from worrying.”
“Yeah, we were worried,” I add as I whip my shirt back into place, stuffing it into my khakis with one hand as I hastily smooth my hair with the other. When I’m done, I turn to Sam and whisper in a breathless rush, “Do I look like I was about to have sex?”
He grins. “No, you look totally normal.”
I prop a hand on my hip. “Then why are you grinning like that?”
He laughs. “Because I’m crazy about you and that was the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”
“Me, too.” I start to giggle but swallow the sound as I hear my father’s footsteps in the hall. With just seconds to spare, I whip open the chess set on the desk and plop it down on the carpet.
Sam joins me, plunking a few pieces onto the board and settling into a cross-legged position across from me just as Dad appears in the doorway.
He smiles at the sight of us, and I instantly feel a little guilty for deceiving him. But only a little guilty. It’s hard to feel too guilty about something that felt so good and so very, very right.