Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
The headboard beat a rapid tattoo and the bedsprings creaked in protest as we came together, grunting and sighing in a fevered frenzy. His hips pistoned faster and faster still. My balls drew tight and—damn it, I was too close.
“Stroke yourself.”
I gasped as he pounded my prostate. “I can’t. I’ll come.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Jean-Claude wrapped his big hand around my throbbing pole, and that was pretty much the end of me.
Cum shot in an impressive arc over his fist and across my torso. I swear, I felt it on my chin too. I cried out, stunned and spent by the sheer magnitude of my release. I saw stars as he roared, bucking his hips and filling the condom.
I fell into a blissed-out hazy state in the aftermath. I couldn’t remember moving at all, but I must have cleaned up and maybe even showered before falling asleep on his chest. It was dark when I blinked awake and glanced over at Jean-Claude, who was eyeing me cautiously.
“It’s late,” I mumbled, rolling to face him, forcing my foot between his calves. “Are you hungry?”
He nodded, his voice rough from sleep. “Yes. I’ll make us something to eat, but first…I have to ask if you’re okay.”
A burst of affection made my heart swell. I brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed his nose. “I’m great. That was…”
“Great?” he supplied.
I snickered. “Yeah. Great. I’m not fragile, you know. I’m not gonna freak out, so don’t worry about that. I’ve wanted every single thing we’ve done, no regrets.”
“But you’re straight. You told me yourself when you ordered your seventy-five tuna salad sandwiches.”
I pounced on top of him, straddling his torso and pinning his wrists to the mattress. “I never ordered seventy-five sandwiches. Take that back.”
“Fine. It was sixty-two.”
“Sounds more like it.” I nipped his chin and released his hands to run my fingers through his chest hair. “I guess I’m not so straight after all.”
“No?”
“I’m bi and I wish I’d figured it out years ago, ’cause I fucking love this.”
“To be clear…you fucking love fucking a man?”
“Yes. Not just any man, though. You.”
Jean-Claude put his hand over his chest and fluttered his eyelashes. “I am honored.”
I punched his pec playfully and tweaked his left nipple. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Feed me, Monsieur Bouchard. I need to keep my strength up if we’re gonna do that again.”
“So bossy.” He hauled his sexy self out of bed and stretched his arms over his head, then scratched his nuts as he meandered to a dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of boxer briefs. I redressed, sniffing my tee and wrinkling my nose. “Here. Wear this one.”
I caught the T-shirt he tossed at me and stared at it for a beat. “I can’t wear your clothes.”
“Yours stink, mine are clean. They might be large on you because I’m taller, my muscles are bigger, and I like food more than you, but so what? No one will know.”
True, but sharing clothes with the guy who’d just fucked my brains out felt…intimate. Maybe even boyfriend-y. Did I care? Not at all.
I dropped my shirt and tugged his over my head. “Thank you.”
Jean-Claude’s lips twitched in amusement. “You’re welcome. You look cute, you know. Like my cute little friend.”
“Fuck off and feed me,” I grumbled without heat.
He ruffled my hair as I walked by, catching me around the waist and pulling me close. “We should do a lot of fucking before you leave, oui?”
“Oui.”
We made out till my stomach growled, then parted with a laugh and headed downstairs to his kitchen, hand in hand. I sat at the island, eating olives and cheese from the charcuterie board he’d prepared, while watching him sear salmon on his professional-grade stove. Some kind of French jazzy music played from the portable speaker on the counter under an open shelf stacked with white plates and mugs.
I admired his blue-and-white French farmhouse-style kitchen, the delicious spread in front of me, and his fine ass in his thin gray sweats as he hummed to a melody I’d never heard till now. I wallowed in a sense of harmony and well-being, and let myself just enjoy.
There was no need to fret about phrases like “before you go.” Not yet.
I didn’t want to think about leaving when I felt like I was somewhere I belonged.
8
JEAN-CLAUDE
Rise and Grind was busy this morning. I had an hour to spare till I was needed at the diner and though I knew my coffee was better, this was a good neutral place to be seen in public with a secret male lover. No one thought twice about daily caffeine jaunts. And if they wondered why Riley and I were together so often, they probably assumed he was too new in town to be bothered by my curmudgeony ways.
“This is a…giraffe?” I guessed, squinting at the foam art in my latte.