Kissing Navy - Plump Playwright #5 - Sample - ON SALE NOW!

Prologue

What does it feel like when a woman runs her tongue from your balls to the tip of your cock?

Oliver blinked at the text. What the hell? He checked the number and hardened, as he always did with thoughts of Navy. Pining for his childhood friend was pathetic, yet no matter what he did, he couldn't stop himself.

His fingers trembled as he typed. Why do you want to know? And hello, by the way.

Oli, please, help me. I'm writing a novel, so you can't say anything to Gray. He'll just tease me until I want to kill him. Hello to you too.

Having just dried himself from a shower and yanked on a pair of sweatpants, Oliver sprawled on his bed, rested a hand on his chest, and dialed her.

"I'm sorry. You're the only man I can ask." Her husky voice rolled over his senses.

He gritted his teeth against her sensual allure. After eight years, he had yet to find her equal. Instead, he settled for scraps, wishing every woman he dated was her.

"As long as I get a copy?" he teased, struggling to maintain the illusion, that of her brother's best friend.

"But what if I suck at writing?"

"Let me be the judge. Mm, now to your question. How to put this..." Rubbing his chest, he raised his gaze to the ceiling where shadows played across its white surface. "Her tongue is hot and wet, and if she swirls it around my balls, intense tingles ripple outward, rushing, along with her lick, to the tip of my cock." He cleared his throat. Hell, never had he imagined being in this position. Lowering his hand, he cupped his hard-on through his pants. An answering wave of tingles mimicked his words. "When she sucks, the pleasure is intense, and often, I struggle to breathe."

"Any tightness in the chest?"

Heat uncoiled in his belly. "Yes, and something in my gut, like I'm doing crunches."

She hummed, and the clatter of keys from a keyboard almost drowned her voice. "What thoughts are running through your head?"

Thoughts? No, images and they flooded him now. Navy and her curly black hair, her bright blue eyes, and her smile that shone like a thousand suns. He'd last seen her four years ago at his mother's funeral, delicious curves barely hidden behind slacks and a button-up blouse. She'd filled out, her sixteen-year-old figure had hinted at the woman she had become.

Typing preceded her next words. "Or are they images? I read that men are more visual."

He groaned. Navy sprawled beneath him, her hooded eyes, her parted mouth as she chanted his name in her husky voice. He supplemented the shape of her breasts, the shade of her nipples, and shuddered.

"Yes." His voice was hoarse like gravel meets tarmac. Shit. She can't ever know how he yearned for her.

"I like that." She sighed. "Thanks, Oli. Would you mind if I bother you...for research?"

He slipped his hand inside his pants and rubbed his hard-on, swallowing a groan. Had she been beside him, he would be balls deep in her now. "Never. Bother away."

"You're the best. Kisses." And she hung up, leaving him rock hard and unfulfilled.

Kisses, sucks, hugs, and fucks, that's what he wanted from her. But it had to come with her heart. Tossing his phone aside, he rolled out of bed for another shower. If he was going to jerk off, it might as well be where he could clean up afterward.

~*~

Five months later.

Oliver palmed the book Navy had sent him. A novella, it held a plump woman on the cover, a brunette, with sensual curves just like Navy's. Hounding Hannah was the title. He flipped it over to read the blurb.