Sticky Fingers Read online Jenika Snow, Jordan Marie

Categories Genre: Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
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“Braden…” she gasps as I grab her legs and bring one of them over my shoulder, opening up her sweet pussy for my mouth.

“I got you, Macy,” I say again. “I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” I assure her, using my fingers to pull the lips of her pussy apart and baring her. My tongue slides against the throbbing nub of her clit and her juices explode on my tongue, giving me a taste of pure heaven. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she tries to grind herself against my tongue.

“Don’t stop, Braden,” she moans.

I look up between her legs, my tongue teasing her entrance, my face buried against her pussy, her head thrown back in pleasure, her body wet and shiny.

She’s a goddess.

She’s mine… and I’m never letting her go.

With that thought solidifying in my mind, I go about eating out her sweet little cunt and owning her body in ways where she’ll find it impossible to walk away…

Macy

The night of the dinner has come and I wish I could say I was calm and collected, but I’m so nervous that my hands are shaking and my palms are sweaty.

I have them clasped together in my lap, trying to act like I’m not about to jump out of my skin. But all I can think about is what Braden and I have done these last couple of days, how the wall I’ve built around myself has all but crumbled, and how I am about to meet his family, even if I’m not technically in a relationship with him.

The truth is, I feel like I am.

I’ve never been so open and bared to anyone in my life. Braden sees me for me, and even if that seems crazy, given the short amount of time we’ve spent with each other, it doesn’t make it any less real.

I look over at him, his focus on his phone, his expression serious as he types out a text. We’re sitting in the back of a sleek luxury car, the scent of expensive leather something I’ve never actually experienced firsthand. I’m used to the faux leather of cheap restaurants, the hard-plastic seats on public transportation.

But being with Braden has shown me a whole other world, one I knew existed, but never imagined I would be part of.

This is temporary.

But as I think those words all I can feel is the doubt in them, and the knowledge that I want more with him consumes me.

Where I always thought the rich and privileged were a bunch of snobby assholes, I saw a different side, one that Braden has shown me. He’s intense and knowledgeable, driven and successful. But he’s not arrogant.

He’s confident.

And that’s such a turn-on.

As I stare at him, his square jaw, his freshly shaven face, with his hard-set eyes as he furiously types out the text, I feel myself heat and soften, arousal licking at my very core. I remember what I did to him in the bed. I remember what he did to me in the shower. My breathing starts coming out faster, more labored. And just when I think, feel, that I want to take this further … when I want to reach out and touch him, do something dirty in the back of this car, the vehicle slows and Braden lift his gaze from the phone to look out the window.

“We’re here,” he says in a deep, almost authoritative voice.

He glances over at me, and I can tell by the way his expression changes that he sees the desire on my face.

I clear my throat and straighten, looking out the passenger side window so I don’t get sucked into the moment, so I don’t reach across and grab his massive cock, and make him come in his expensive, tailored suit pants right before his family dinner.

I blow out a small breath of air. The window is tinted so it’s hard to see out. But there’s no mistaking the massive estate the luxury car is slowing up to.

When I lean in closer to the window to get a better look at the mansion, I suddenly feel like a fraud, so out of place and my element that I start to feel panic settle inside of me. I’ve never seen a house so big in person, with pillars that support a large covered porch, a front door that’s really two doors in one, this intricate, wrought-iron scroll work on it.

This isn’t me.

It is tonight, I mentally demand of myself.

The car comes to a stop in front of wide, no doubt expensive marble steps that lead up to the porch. My heart is racing double-time, and I don’t know how this is supposed to go, if I’m supposed to pretend to be his girlfriend? If I’m just arm candy? Should I be seen and not heard?


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