Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I found myself clenching the muscles between my legs at the thought, wondering what it would be like to let Jacob into my most private areas. The smallest of moans emerged from my lips as, for a moment, I allowed myself to think of his hands sliding between my legs, pushing them apart.
Don’t be stupid, I scolded myself, forcing my eyes open. I wouldn’t even know what to do if Jacob wanted me— I certainly wouldn’t have had the nerve to hike my dress up and bend over, no matter how well I could imagine myself doing exactly that.
But what does it hurt to imagine it? I thought, and blushed at my own brashness. Jacob Everett had asked after me, but it wasn’t like it would ever become anything— so why not have a little fun with the memory while it was fresh? I reached for my phone and Googled Jacob’s name. A million photos popped up immediately— Jacob in football gear, at press conferences, signing autographs. I scrolled along them until I found a candid photo of him walking off the football field, I assumed after a workout— it looked to be late afternoon, and sunlight was bouncing off the sweat-slicked muscles of his abs, so defined I wanted to run my fingers along them. There was a girl beside him, a pretty petite thing in a sports bra, and it looked like she was laughing at something he’d just said. I carefully resized the photo so that Jacob alone was in the frame.
I rolled over onto my back and bent my knees up, then slid my hand down my stomach and into my panties. I held the phone up so I could see the photo as my fingers slid along the wetness— the significant wetness— of my slit. My own touch made me jump; I so rarely did this, but suddenly, I wanted the release of an orgasm. No— wanted the release of an orgasm at Jacob’s hands.
The fact that I was a virgin, that I had no idea if my fantasies were realistic or not, that I was the one rubbing my fingers against my clit, none of that mattered suddenly. I stared at the picture of Jacob and imagined what it would be like if he were here, looking at me the way he had at the party. Looking at me hungrily. What if I’d stayed longer, fought past Piper and the other girls’ efforts to get me out of his immediate proximity? Would he have lead me into the garden?
I took a long, eager breath, and surrendered to the fantasy.
He would have grinned at me, that cocky, arrogant grin that sparkled all the same. He’d have shrugged Piper and the other girls off, and walked toward me intently, gray blue eyes never falling from mine, then taken me by the wrist. He wouldn’t say anything, not really, but he’d have pulled me gently along behind him, strong and sure and confident in all the ways I wasn’t. We’d have gone out one of the back doors, into the yard together, into the cool night air. Jacob would have turned around then and pulled me against him, then lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He’d kiss me, hard and powerful, and I’d be able to feel his cock prodding at me through the fabric of his pants. He’d slide his hands underneath my ass, fingertips brushing against my pussy, and his eyes would sparkle like they had at the party— knowing I was in his arms, making me want him, making me groan from wanting him to slide his fingers closer, closer, until they groped at my clit…it would turn him on, and seeing him get so hot would make me feel wild and reckless and desperate.
In my bedroom, I licked my lips and began to rub at my clit harder, feeling the rush of blood and desire. I kept thinking of Jacob, of what he’d do to me— or what I wanted him to do to me, at least.
He’d have set me down gently, that careful, measured way that only someone wickedly strong could handle. He’d have let his hands slide up my body, pulling my dress along with it, and I’d have been left standing in my bra and panties and heels before him, open to his judgment. He’d smile— the sparkling one from the party— then tell me to take off my bra and panties. Not ask— tell— and being told would be so freeing, so simple, that I’d comply immediately. When I was undressed, night air licking at my nipples and ass, he’d place his hands on my shoulders and turn me around. I imagined his hand on the small of my back, his other hand gripping my shoulder as he bent me over. I rubbed myself faster as I imagined how it would feel, the heat of him positioning himself behind me, the ache of my pussy wanting to be filled, then the rush of feeling him enter me. Nine inches, nine inches of cock, sliding into my body; the idea made me ripple with pleasure, with want, with curiosity. What would it feel like to not only be fucked, but to be fucked by someone that large? I imagined his hips kissing against me as he pushed all the way into me, then withdrawing, slow at first, then faster, harder. His cock would throb inside me until I felt like I might break into a thousand pieces from the heat of him.