Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I wished I could forget the way she tasted. The sounds she made. The words she whispered. I want you to make me come again.
I slid my hand under the covers and wrapped it around my cock.
That’s when I heard it. A soft knock on my door.
I froze. Had I imagined it?
No—there it was again. Three quiet little raps on the wood.
“Mabel?” I called out, quickly taking my hand off my dick.
“Yes,” she said through the door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I sat up, my heart pounding. Hopefully, it was dark enough she wouldn’t notice how I’d bunched the covers over my crotch to hide my erection.
The door opened, and she appeared. She wore a long white T-shirt, giving her a ghostly appearance in the dark. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I swallowed hard.
“He’s moving again,” she said tentatively. “I thought maybe you’d want to feel?”
“Okay. I mean yes.”
She moved closer to the bed. “Is it okay if I . . .”
“Of course.”
She climbed onto the bed and sat back on her heels, her knees brushing my hip. Her buttery vanilla scent filled my head. Taking my hand, she pressed it to her belly, molding it beneath hers over the thin cotton shirt. I didn’t breathe or blink. Nothing happened.
“Shoot,” she said, sliding my hand to a new spot. “Now he’s not doing it. But a minute ago I was just lying there, and he was kicking away.”
“Maybe if you lie down the way you were?”
“Maybe.” She rearranged herself so she lay on her side, facing me, above the covers. “Okay, this is how I was.”
Rolling onto my side, I propped my head in one hand and reached out again. She took me by the wrist, and this time she slipped my hand beneath the shirt. Heat struck me like lightning as my palm rested on her bare skin. Beneath my hand, nothing happened.
Beneath the covers, my cock grew harder.
After a moment, she sighed. “You’re going to think I made it up,” she said, “but I swear he was dancing around in there when I was down the hall.”
“I believe you.”
She slid my hand higher on her belly, so high my fingers brushed the bottom of her breast.
Immediately I pulled my arm back. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We lay there facing each other, our eyes locked. The silence between us lengthened into something tight and tense, something that threatened to snap.
Finally she spoke. “Were you asleep when I knocked?”
“No. I was just lying here thinking.”
“About what?”
What popped into my mind was not the kind of thing you said to a friend. “Stuff,” I said lamely.
“What kind of stuff?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because my answer will cross the line.”
She didn’t say anything, and I thought I’d gone too far.
“Fuck. Sorry. Forget I said that.”
“Which line?” she asked.
“The one drawn between us.”
“So you’re wishing you could be on my side of the line tonight?”
“Yes. But don’t worry—I won’t cross it. I know it’s better this way.” I paused. “I was just thinking about you is all.”
“It’s okay. I was thinking about you too.”
We were at a standstill. It felt like a face-off where the ref had dropped the puck but neither player wanted to be the first to touch it, even though they both wanted to score.
“I should go back to my room,” she whispered.
“Probably.”
She began to roll away and my arm shot out, my fingers catching her forearm.
“But I don’t want you to go,” I said.
“You don’t?”
“No. Stay.”
She settled back onto her side, facing me like before, and I let go of her arm.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I told her. “I won’t even touch you, if you don’t want me to. I know what the rules are. I just want to be close to you.”
“I want you to touch me, Joe,” she said softly but urgently. “I know it’s a bad idea. I know it’s wrong. But I really want you to touch me.”
I reached over and slid my hand from her thigh to her hip, slipping beneath the hem of the T-shirt. I kneaded her hip tenderly. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
My hand traveled over her rounded stomach and up to one breast, cupping it gently. She arched her back, pressing herself into my palm, and sucked in her breath as my thumb teased her nipple, making it hard. God, I wanted my mouth on her. Leaning forward, I closed my lips around the cotton-covered peak, sucking softly, wetting her shirt.
She groaned, cradling my head in her hands, threading her fingers into my hair, raking her nails across my scalp. “That feels so good.”
Tipping her onto her back, I did the same thing to her other breast while my fingers played with the first, twisting its pebbled tip through the damp cotton. After a moment, she lifted my head from her chest.
“Let me take this off,” she whispered before removing her shirt and tossing it to the floor.