Read Online TheSmallPrint by Barbara Elsborg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Elsborg
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she’d put on more underwear and how easily he could check.
“About what happened earlier.” Matty twisted her fingers together.
Turner didn’t move. He deserved everything she threw at him, even if it was sharp, made of wood and it hurt.
She looked straight at him and smiled. “It was lovely.”
Oh fuck. Three words to disarm him where three men would have failed. Her gaze dropped to below his waist and Turner knew exactly what she was looking at. His preening cock had grown another inch at the word “lovely”. As it swelled, hardened and straightened in his pants, it crossed Turner’s mind that his dick had a brain and agenda of its own.
“It doesn’t have to mean something,” she said in a quiet voice. “It’s just nice to touch and be touched. Isn’t it? It makes you feel alive.”
Oh God.
She took a step closer. “Was it all right for you? Was there something I should have done differently?”
Turner opened his mouth, but no words emerged. When she reached out and laid her hand on his groin, he braced himself for spontaneous combustion.
Matty wondered if her hand had a mind of its own because she didn’t know what the hell it was doing. Since when did she put her palm on a guy’s crotch? Only the fact Turner hadn’t growled kept her fingers where they were. She looked straight at him to find his dark eyes glittering and no sign of disgust on his face, only rampant hunger. He was attracted to her—he just didn’t want to admit it. All she had to do was make him see that he needed her as much as she needed him.
Easy way to do that. Something that would make them both happy. Matty dropped to her knees and unfastened the button at his waist. She pulled down the zipper and then tugged his pants to his ankles. His cock tented his shorts, a little wet circle on the blue cotton and Matty licked her lips. He might not say much, but his body said plenty. Turner’s groan dragged her gaze to his face and she watched his fingers push open the buttons of his shirt and yank it from his arms. He toed off his shoes—no socks—and kicked away his pants. Oh God, what a body. Matty was almost rendered speechless, but not quite.
“Wow, you look like a cowboy.”
Damn, speechless would have been better.
His eyes widened. Matty reached behind to grab a book from the floor that she’d left out to read. “Look.” The cover was of a bare-chested guy holding a Stetson above his head, pants riding low on narrow hips. Like the cowboy, Turner’s abs were sharply defined, his pecs not too large, not too small. There was no hair on his chest but a slight dark line trailed down from his bellybutton—an arrow pointing the way. Matty already knew he had no pubic hair. Just like her. For some reason hers hadn’t grown after the last time she’d shaved. Nor the hairs on her legs or under her arms. One spark of light in the blackness that was her bloody horrible life.
“I take it that’s a compliment?” Turner asked in a gruff voice.
“What?” Matty had forgotten what she’d said.
“That I resemble a cowboy.”
She nodded so hard, she made her head hurt. The book fell from her fingers. She took a deep breath, grasped the waistband of his shorts and tugged down the last item of his clothing.
Oh God, I had all that inside me? How did it fit? But Turner’s cock fit his body. Long, hard and proud, the crest glistening with pre-cum, it reared straight up, and Matty forgot all thoughts about doing this to persuade him, she was doing this for her. If he got something out of it, that was good too. She had to force herself not to pounce on him as if he were the last bar of chocolate in the world.
Matty rubbed her cheek against his cock, loving the feel of satiny skin stretched over a steel-hard shaft. When she heard him groan, muscles tingled then pulsed in her core and a gush of warmth wet her folds. Matty slid her hands over his firm thighs and spread her fingers over his buttocks as she slowly ran her
“About what happened earlier.” Matty twisted her fingers together.
Turner didn’t move. He deserved everything she threw at him, even if it was sharp, made of wood and it hurt.
She looked straight at him and smiled. “It was lovely.”
Oh fuck. Three words to disarm him where three men would have failed. Her gaze dropped to below his waist and Turner knew exactly what she was looking at. His preening cock had grown another inch at the word “lovely”. As it swelled, hardened and straightened in his pants, it crossed Turner’s mind that his dick had a brain and agenda of its own.
“It doesn’t have to mean something,” she said in a quiet voice. “It’s just nice to touch and be touched. Isn’t it? It makes you feel alive.”
Oh God.
She took a step closer. “Was it all right for you? Was there something I should have done differently?”
Turner opened his mouth, but no words emerged. When she reached out and laid her hand on his groin, he braced himself for spontaneous combustion.
Matty wondered if her hand had a mind of its own because she didn’t know what the hell it was doing. Since when did she put her palm on a guy’s crotch? Only the fact Turner hadn’t growled kept her fingers where they were. She looked straight at him to find his dark eyes glittering and no sign of disgust on his face, only rampant hunger. He was attracted to her—he just didn’t want to admit it. All she had to do was make him see that he needed her as much as she needed him.
Easy way to do that. Something that would make them both happy. Matty dropped to her knees and unfastened the button at his waist. She pulled down the zipper and then tugged his pants to his ankles. His cock tented his shorts, a little wet circle on the blue cotton and Matty licked her lips. He might not say much, but his body said plenty. Turner’s groan dragged her gaze to his face and she watched his fingers push open the buttons of his shirt and yank it from his arms. He toed off his shoes—no socks—and kicked away his pants. Oh God, what a body. Matty was almost rendered speechless, but not quite.
“Wow, you look like a cowboy.”
Damn, speechless would have been better.
His eyes widened. Matty reached behind to grab a book from the floor that she’d left out to read. “Look.” The cover was of a bare-chested guy holding a Stetson above his head, pants riding low on narrow hips. Like the cowboy, Turner’s abs were sharply defined, his pecs not too large, not too small. There was no hair on his chest but a slight dark line trailed down from his bellybutton—an arrow pointing the way. Matty already knew he had no pubic hair. Just like her. For some reason hers hadn’t grown after the last time she’d shaved. Nor the hairs on her legs or under her arms. One spark of light in the blackness that was her bloody horrible life.
“I take it that’s a compliment?” Turner asked in a gruff voice.
“What?” Matty had forgotten what she’d said.
“That I resemble a cowboy.”
She nodded so hard, she made her head hurt. The book fell from her fingers. She took a deep breath, grasped the waistband of his shorts and tugged down the last item of his clothing.
Oh God, I had all that inside me? How did it fit? But Turner’s cock fit his body. Long, hard and proud, the crest glistening with pre-cum, it reared straight up, and Matty forgot all thoughts about doing this to persuade him, she was doing this for her. If he got something out of it, that was good too. She had to force herself not to pounce on him as if he were the last bar of chocolate in the world.
Matty rubbed her cheek against his cock, loving the feel of satiny skin stretched over a steel-hard shaft. When she heard him groan, muscles tingled then pulsed in her core and a gush of warmth wet her folds. Matty slid her hands over his firm thighs and spread her fingers over his buttocks as she slowly ran her
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