Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

I stifle a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Too late, Ivy. The damage has been done.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m sensitive in the mornings.”

I press a hand to his chest, pretending to look bad. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “You can suck my cock like you did last night.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I bite my bottom lip. “I can do that, Mr West.”

“No,” he retorts, looking expectantly at me. “You can do that…”

“I can do that, sir.”

His lips spread into a lazy smile as I drift down his body. He jumped into bed naked. He knew this was going to happen, didn’t he?

He’s already hard when I take him into my mouth. In the dimly lit room, I glance up at him, and the cocky jerk has propped his pillow up and has his hands behind his head.

“You look like a master,” I comment. “What the hell, Aidan?”

“You’re serving me, are you not?” he replies, half-amused, half-aroused. “Be a good girl and suck my cock, Ivy.”

I spit along his length and he groans, cursing. I’m a quick learner and already understanding what gets his cock pulsing. I take him deeper into my throat, relaxing it so I don’t gag. His hips buck and he digs his heels into the mattress, a hand flying to the back of my head. Just one look at him and I know he’s lost to the pleasure. See, this is the kind of stuff I didn’t see in the dark. Neither did I notice the countless tattoos he’s covered in. I glance at them as I take him in and out, teasing him the way he likes. They’re really nice tattoos. There’s a large one on the left side of his muscled chest that’s of a round numeral clock with gears, and the black and grey shading is stunning.

“That’s it, Ivy, deeper,” he groans. “I want to feel the back of your throat.”

I take him as deep as I can go. He strokes my face, mesmerized by me.

“Faster now.”

I move faster, and his head falls back. His eyes are half-closed. He’s lost in pleasure, and I’m back to staring at his sexy body. This guy is something else.

Before I can continue studying him, he grabs me around the shoulders and flips me on my back. He settles his knees on either side of my waist and jerks his cock over me.

“Cup your tits, Ivy,” he demands, voice tight.

I cup them and he comes straight after, shooting his load right over them. He groans deep, eyes closed. I watch his face closely, fidgeting beneath him because it’s such a raw expression. He’s really sexy. It’s sort of a problem because when he opens his eyes, I just lay there, staring at him, unable to look away. He stares back at me, a smirk pulling along his lips. Then he’s running his hand along my breasts, spreading around his come until my breasts are covered in it.

It’s not enough I had to watch him come. It’s not enough he’s so beautiful, it hurts. No, he has to go right ahead and mark me like this. After last night and this morning, I’m covered in him, in his scent, in his come and kisses. I love it all.

“Next time I’ll be coming down your throat,” he tells me.

I bite my lip. “I look forward to it, Mr West.”

He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, watching me with the afterglow of a good orgasm. Then he climbs off me and moves to the bathroom, tossing over his shoulder, “Come shower with me.”

I slip out of bed and follow after him. This bathroom is fit for a king. Just absolutely huge, all glass and stone walls. I check out his sculpted ass as he turns the water on in the giant stall. This guy seriously lifts. His legs – fuck, wow – they’re thick and muscular. He’s got the full V-line and narrow waist. His biceps are huge, and his chest is defined. These tattoos are really rocking my socks because they’re elegant looking and very uniquely designed. They certainly weren’t picked out of a catalogue.

I’m fan-girling like an idiot, but I can’t help it.

There are two shower heads in this bathroom. I step under one and he’s under another. We don’t speak for a few minutes. All of his bathroom products are tailored for a man. Is it bad that it warms my heart he doesn’t have one single feminine product in here? That he must not have women frequenting this shower. Even my bathroom had generic shit. The body wash I use on me is all male. Even the shampoo has a hint of sage in it. I lather it in my hair and glance over my shoulder at Aidan. He’s turned his back to the spray and is facing me. His entire body is covered in soap suds. He’s running his hands through his soaked hair, washing out the shampoo. His eyes are open, regarding me just the same.

I’m feeling a little conscious now because I’ve got an audience. He watches me rinse my body, and he’s looking over every inch of my skin. He likes what he’s seeing. I can see him growing hard already. It’s sort of taking me by surprise because I’m not used to seeing that excitement so soon after the kind of intimacy we’ve had.

His eyes linger longer along my belly. His brows come together, and a strange expression forms. He comes to me suddenly, and I pause to look up at him. I feel his fingers brushing along my lower stomach, along my c-section scar. He looks at my face, studying me, saying nothing. I don’t look back at him. I am not going to talk about this, and he knows that. His hand falls from my scar and he takes my hand. He brings me under his shower head and rinses me off.

“Breakfast?” he murmurs.

I nod, relaxing now. “I’d love breakfast.”

“Maple syrup with