Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
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October
Soft lips, enticing lavender, delicate fingers.
It's the only thing I see days later when I close my eyes. Caught in the moment, I feel the heat of her hands on my skin, her breath fanning across my jaw and collarbone.
I vowed that it would never happen. The consequences were too great.
Yet, my hands were on her, lips around her nipple, and her hand on my cock. A pleasurable sensation knotted and coiled at the base of my spine, my skin pimpled with goosebumps, and my palms itched to touch more of her skin—wanting to tug her clothes off.
I inhaled her quiet whimpers and cries of need, her lips that constantly battled mine, never wanting to cede control. Even when she wasn't speaking, she was defying me—a small smile tugs at my lips at the thought.
I've fantasized about her pulse that throbbed against the flat of my tongue and how her collarbone jutted with sharp exhales.
She had the perfect handful-sized tits, and I didn't expect to find her bare when I tugged her shirt down. Her nipple, so small, so light and pale against her skin, puckered with the warmth of my breath. They couldn't lie to me once I clamped my teeth around it; neither could her moans. Her fingers dug into my scalp, drawing me closer. She could have denied it all she wanted, but she wanted me, lusted for me.
But what shocked me the most, stunned me, was when she reached into my shorts and curled her slender fingers around my cock. But I really shouldn't have expected anything less from her.
I was torturing her with my mouth, and she decided to torture me with her hands.
Staring down at her fingers wrapped around my cock, pumping me, gripping me, I could have come there. My balls cinched into my body, threatening to come onto her upper thigh. But then I looked up at her, wanting to see what she thought, and I considered just watching her the entire time.
Her darkened irises fixated on my cock as she gaped, her plump, swollen lips parted. She darted her tongue out to run along the seams of her lips, and I wanted to shove my cock into her pouty mouth.
Heady and intoxicated from her touch, I decided that the next time she got mouthy, it was the best way to shut her up. That was before reality drove in hard, setting my mind and thoughts straight.
But when she peered up with those darkened forest green eyes, it wasn't hate or anger present in them. It was longing, hunger, desire. She actually wanted me beyond just holding my cock in her hand or my lips on her skin.
In that moment, I should have stepped back. This wasn't going to end well for either of us. But as I continued to peer into her eyes, drifting my gaze down the bridge of her nose to her parted lips, I thought to make the most of what would never happen again.
So I decided a kiss wouldn't be enough.
I lifted her into my arms and ground her hips into mine. A pleasurable current ran through me, and I wasn't surprised to find that it was so easy to read her. From the carnal expression on her face, she was close to coming. The denim of her jeans felt blissful against the length of my thickening cock. I kept growing and growing stiffer, ready to come when the fucking door opened, and it felt like someone poured ice into my veins.
