Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
“You too,” I tell him as I thrust more slowly than I planned. I know I hit his spot when his eyes roll back, and his body starts to tremble. “Looks like I hit the magic button,” I tease.
“Fuck, yes. Harder.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. I snap my hips and fuck hard. Gary’s left hand grabs my ass, his right squeezing between us to wrap around his cock and stroke.
I don’t have to see his feet to know his toes are curled. My balls are full and, God, there’s nothing like shooting my load inside him.
“Right there. Fuck, right there.” Gary bites his lip, jerking his cock faster before his body tenses up and his hot, thick load squirts between us, on his abs, his chest. I rail him deep, fast, lose my fucking mind when his hole tightens around my dick, making me shoot. My orgasm slams into me, my balls emptying as I keep fucking, keep filling him. When he’s milked me dry, I pull out and use my tongue to eat up all the come on his chest.
“Mmm. That’ll hold me over until later.”
Gary laughs, wraps his arms and legs around me tighter, and I let myself fall on top of him, let him take my weight. “Jesus, Trav. I’ll never get tired of that.”
“Me either,” I tell him.
We hold each other for as long as we can before we pry our bodies away. We clean up real quick. The second we’re done, Gary is back in work mode, and he’s out the door before I can even get dressed.
I’m smiling as I pull my underwear up, then reach for my pants and tug them on. One more time. I’ll let myself check on the ring one more time, and then I’m done. The second I slip my hand into my pocket, the whole fucking world goes up in smoke.
“No…no, no, no, no.” There’s no fucking way I lost the ring! I check the right pocket again, then the left, before dropping to my knees to search the floor. What the fuck is wrong with me? How did I lose the goddamned ring? Cody was right. I totally should have given it to him. This is karma for my whole, “I don’t trust you with it” discussion.
There’s a knock at the door, but I can’t make myself get up. I’m crawling around, head under the bed and shit, my heart thudding a million miles an hour.
Where could it have gone? Had I stuck my hand in my pocket so many times I’d pulled it out? Lost it while we stripped? I picture the ring that I had specially designed for Gary before I sit my ass on the floor, leaning against the bed, head dropped back on the mattress.
Knock, knock, knock.
My damn cell rings at the same time as whoever’s at the door reminds me they’re there. I shove to my feet, answer the call with, “What?” as I open the door to see Evan, of all people.
I can’t focus on him much as Gary’s rambling in my ear about the caterer and some kind of problem that doesn’t really matter because the end result is late or no food.
He hangs up, telling me he’s working on it and I squeeze my phone so tight, I hear it crack.
“What’s wrong?” Evan asks, kindness in his voice.
“Everything. Fuck!” I run my hands through my hair, unable to hold myself back. “We’re throwing a fucking fundraiser today, and I just found out we might not have food. And as big a fucking deal as that is, it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m planning on proposing to Gary today, and I lost the ring. How the hell did I lose the goddamn ring?” I say again, pacing the room.
It takes me a moment to realize I just laid all that out on Evan, but then a warm hand lands on my shoulder, and I look at him to see a kind smile. “You help figure out the food. I’ll find the ring. I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll find it.”
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You didn’t, but yes, you could. Tell me what it looks like, and everywhere you’ve been. I don’t care if I have to comb the whole goddamn beach. I’ll find it, Travis.”
I let out a breath. As long of a shot as it is, I appreciate Evan being willing to try. After describing it, I tell him, “Cody knows—but no one else. He’ll help you. I’m thinking the dock, in here, or maybe the dining room. I was moving tables in there before the races.”
“Got it. We’ll figure it out, Travis,” he says, and that easily, begins to head toward the door.
“Evan?” I call out.
He stops, looks at me, and it strikes me how young he looks, how innocent. “Thank you.”