Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I put a hand on his chest and sank down so that his entire length pushed into me, my swollen prostate rubbing against him. Lightning bolts exploded through the room. I threw my head back and cried out as Eric started to fuck me, finding a rhythm where I was able to bounce down, pushing him in deeper.
Harder. Faster. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Keep going,” I said, falling forward so that my head nestled into Eric’s neck while he plowed into me. His hands dug into my hips as he worked me, giving me exactly what I needed, what I had begged for. “Keep going, Eric. Fuck, you’re going to fucking make me come.”
“Do it, baby. Spray your load all over my chest.”
I sat back up as the wave crested over my body, crashing over me with a primal force. My load covered Eric’s entire chest as my body convulsed, squeezing and contracting around Eric. He dropped his head back and growled like a caged lion, plunging himself deep before holding there, filling me with his orgasm.
A residual growl escaped his throat as I slowly pulled off him, come sliding down my thigh. I smiled, my entire being lifted up past the clouds, drifting somewhere past Mars. This broke every single rule we meant to set up, but it was worth it for this floaty, fuzzy feeling.
I got a warm, wet towel from the bathroom and came back to clean Eric up before I cleaned myself up. I came back to the living room with fresh glasses of ice-cold water, which Eric thanked me for, still sitting naked and breathless on my couch.
It was a sight I don’t think I’d ever get tired of seeing. “That was… just like old times,” Eric said as I sat down.
“Even better,” I said, smiling as I rubbed my chest, throwing a casual leg over Eric’s. “There’s something sexier than ever about your confidence.”
“I do feel way more confident now than I ever have.”
I nodded, closing my eyes as Eric massaged my calf. “It looks good on you. And feels good in me.”
He chuckled and continued to massage me, the room lapsing into a comfortable silence. At one point, his massaging stopped, but his hand didn’t leave me. Instead, he started to trace lines with his fingers—no, those weren’t lines. They were letters.
I smiled so wide my cheeks started to hurt.
“Kiss me,” I said, reading the words he wrote on my skin.
“I was wondering if you still had it,” Eric said as I went in for a smoldering kiss, one that carried the memories of all those nights we spent together, when Eric and I would trace invisible words on each other. It was our way of being discreet in public together. If we were ever in a lineup or standing close to each other, we’d get to writing, scrawling invisible words on each other to assure us we were still together. Like high schoolers in a secret relationship, sharing notes as they passed each other in the hallways.
A silence that left too much room for my thoughts to wander. I started to think about our baggage, and how even after Eric rearranged my guts in the best way possible, we still needed to talk about what happened between us. Maybe now wasn’t the most opportune time, but all of my filters were annihilated, so any thoughts that entered my brain were liable to slip right on out.
“You know,” I said, “we spent a lot of time talking about what’s coming up, but I don’t think we’ve spent any time about what happened with us. Our past.”
I heard Eric suck in a breath.
“It’s hard, I know,” I said, sitting up on the couch. My entire body was spent, but my heart started to race again. Eric’s chest was still flushed, his tan cheeks getting a little bit of extra color as well. “But we have to talk about it.”
“Maybe now’s not the best time?” he said, deflecting once again.
“It’s never really the best time for that sort of thing, is it? We just have to rip it off like a Band-Aid. The sooner we do it, the better.”
He took another breath, his gaze drifting to somewhere in the distance, somewhere that wasn’t in my living room. It brought me back to the old days, and not in a good way. It reminded me of how he’d always deflect whenever I tried to have a serious conversation with him. He had seemed incapable of discussing anything having to do with us or his emotions.
Had he changed for the better, or was he even more closed off than before?
“We’ve started back up on such a great foot, though. Why ruin it?”
Okay, so it was the latter. He didn’t even want to broach the topic of our past.