More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
What a pretty thing you are when you blush for me.
This crush—or whatever the fuck you call developing an unhealthy fascination with seeing your stepbrother’s cock erupt cum all over your fist—is surely a one-way ticket to a shattered nose.
“Looks like you’re a desperate little slut for someone to come along and fuck that tight ass of yours.”
“No, snowflake. There’s no one here but me giving you this. I’m the one fingering your ass, with your dick weeping, all for my hands.”
Do you want me to treat you like the needy thing you are? The rodeo star who wants to be filled with cock and pumped full of cum?”
“So sweet, aren’t you? Giving me access to do as I please with your tight little body.”
“Look how flushed you get.” He muses, while drawing back to study me from beneath a hooded gaze. “I bet this cock is nice and thick, greedy for the idea of being in my mouth, hmm. When I undo your jeans, am I going to find you weeping for me? Making a mess of yourself because you’re craving my tongue to lick you all over?”
“How hard are you right now, hmm? How fat does this perfect,” Kiss “. . . pretty boy cock of yours,” Lick “. . . get when you’ve got a real cowboy to look after you?” Bite. “How desperate are you to fill my throat with cum because you know it’ll please me?”
“That’s it, feed me all those horny little sounds, snowflake. You drive me insane with the way this mouth looks, you know . . . always so ready to wrap around my cock and suck me down. Walking around with that greedy stare, like the only thing you want is for me to unbuckle my jeans and feed you my dick. To give you something to choke on until you’re a drooling mess.”
“But I don’t think of it as reflective of being weak. A snowflake is a thing of beauty. An infinitely unique pattern. It melts, yes, but that depends on its circumstances. When it transforms into water, you and I both know, that’s one of nature’s most powerful forces. Able to flow and bend and fucking move mountains. A life-giving substance.”
I’m officially gone. Dead. Buried. My cowboy half-undressed, ridding himself of his jeans while telling me he loves me in a voice that sounds like pure sex? Game over.
