Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
As if he knows I’m sulking, I get a call from him, so I quickly spit the toothpaste into the sink. “Hey!”
“I’m texting you my address if you want to see my Scrotum.”
“You could get arrested for that kind of proposition.”
He laughs.
“But yeah, I’d love to see your dog, and I wouldn’t mind taking a gander at your scrotum. It was dark last night. I didn’t get to inspect much.”
“I’ll unlock the front door. I’m going to jump in the shower. Come on in when you get here.”
“Okay. See ya soon.” I end the call before squealing like a little girl. Then, I shave everything but my head before applying lotion and my Foreplay essential oil blend.
To my surprise, Koen lives less than fifteen minutes from my place. He has a sprawling lot covered in trees, and his house isn’t just any house. It looks like one shipping container stacked onto another with massive windows and a detached garage.
“Hello?” I call, cracking open the door.
Scrot barks and greets me the second I step inside.
“Hey, buddy. Oh, you’re such a good boy.” I squat and give him the attention he’s craving. “Where’s your daddy? Is he still in the shower? Should I get naked and join him?”
“Fuck. Hold that thought. I’ll head back to the bathroom,” Koen says, descending the last few steps, wearing jogging shorts and nothing else. A few drops of water still cling to his torso and damp hair.
I grin. “You live in shipping containers. This is very cool.” I glance around the open space with only a few walled-off rooms. A wide steel split staircase leads to the upper level.
“I think your friend is loaded,” Koen says.
I give Scrot one more scratch behind his ears and stand. “Price?”
Koen leans against the railing. “Yeah.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he spent the entire time giving me tips on investing. He knows his stuff. When someone knows that much, they’ve used that knowledge to their benefit. So I have to wonder why he’s living where he lives, driving a Honda, and working at the general store.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just met the guy. I didn’t want to pry or sound like a dick putting down his lifestyle. I think being rich but living a modest life is pretty admirable.”
“Is that why he was giving you advice? So you could be rich and live a modest life?” I pad my way to him.
“No. He wants to ensure I can care for my wife and kids.”
My eyebrows shoot up my head as I wrap my arms around his neck. “You have a wife and kids? Do they know where you were last night? When will they be back? How much time do we have?”
Koen ducks, kissing my neck. “He loves you. It’s painfully obvious.” He kisses my jaw before finding my mouth.
I don’t want to talk about Price. It’s too heartbreaking. And a little heart-confusing. So I press my hands to Koen’s face, kissing him deeper until I need a breath. “Did you clean off your bed for me?”
He grins. “Clean sheets, too.”
“Why? We’re just going to get them dirty.”
“Careful.” He pulls off my sweater, eyebrows peaking in approval when he discovers I’m not wearing a bra. Again, he kisses me.
So, this is what addiction feels like. My head swims from his touch.
“I will not give you back to him if you keep saying things like that,” he whispers, one hand cupping my breast, the other sliding down the back of my linen lounge pants. He moans when he’s greeted with flesh, no underwear.
I packed light.
Koen squeezes my butt, claiming it, and I gasp. If I could catch my breath, I’d tell him I’m not Price’s, but even as I think the words, my heart feels a slight objection.
“We’re not going to make it to the bedroom this time. Sorry,” he mumbles between kisses, walking backward to the sofa. The second he unties my pants, they fall to the floor, where he quickly adds his shorts and briefs.
As soon as my ass contacts the cool, soft leather, he’s inside of me. It’s slow and hard, with an occasional kiss, but mostly, we look into each other’s eyes. I feel like he’s making a statement that I’m his.
I wouldn’t be here with him like this if I didn’t feel the same way.
“I take it you don’t eat meat,” Koen says as I politely decline the leftover rotisserie chicken and stick to the mango and trail mix as we refuel in his kitchen just after midnight.
“Is that a blowjob reference? Because you haven’t—”
“No.” He grins before licking his fingers, legs dangling from his perched position on his concrete counter. Tempting me in nothing but his boxer briefs.
I lean against the opposite counter, swimming in his tee. “My mother’s a cardiologist. My father’s a horticulturist. I was raised on veggies. Please don’t ask me where I get my protein.”