Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
He drapes an arm around me. “I’m always here for you. You know that.”
“I know,” I whisper, emotions crawling up my throat. “Do you think you’re this cool to make up for Mom?”
He laughs, a little confused. “What do you mean?”
“Like, did you feel as if you had to give us double the love to make up for her leaving?”
He stops, and the dog stops too, sitting perfectly at his feet. “No. This is how I feel for you.”
And I’m this close to crying. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you so much. And I can’t wait to meet your beau.”
I can’t wait either. The prospect of spending the holiday with my family and my guy makes me feel like anything is possible.
Next Wednesday afternoon, the world slows down. Traffic thins. Phones ping less. Social media takes a day off.
Around three, a guy rings the bell to deliver groceries. I wish Beck didn’t have to wait in the kitchen, out of sight, but maybe someday soon, he won’t have to hide.
I thank the delivery guy, tip him extra on the app, then shut the door and call out: “Coast is clear, sexy beast. Get your ass out here and lift this turkey.”
Smiling, Beck joins me in the foyer, grabbing bags of groceries and hauling them to the kitchen.
We unpack them together, me stopping to sneak kisses on his cheek, his earlobe, his jaw. We move around the kitchen, but I’m no good at keeping my hands off him. “You’re going to make it tough for me to prep,” he warns as I circle my arms around his waist and bite his neck. Who could blame me? He’s wearing that outdoorsy aftershave.
“I can go upstairs,” I offer playfully.
He grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs me against him. “No, just behave for a few hours.”
I kiss his nose, then shrug. “I make no promises.”
We get to work, prepping the turkey, making the stuffing, and quartering the potatoes.
A few hours later, I’m slap-happy from all the cooking and horny from all the not sexing, so I slather a dollop of cranberry sauce on his cheek. I lick it off, but a drop slides into his hair.
“Bummer,” I murmur. “Guess we need to shower.”
Ten minutes later, we’re under the stream, his wet, warm naked body pressed against mine. “I’ve got an idea for tonight,” I say.
“Tell me.”
“How about I show you?”
“Knew this would be a great idea,” I moan as he presses his hands on my thighs and spreads me wider.
Fucking love seeing Beck’s face between my legs. My guy has become an expert at giving me head. He can work me over in the most fantastic long, slow tease ever.
But he works me over in other ways too. Right now, he’s driving me wild with his tongue.
Inside me.
I grab the sheets and claw at them. “Fuck, baby. You have to stop or . . .”
He eases out, flicks his tongue against me, then lifts his head to ask ever so innocently, “Or you’ll come all over my face like the last time I did this to you?”
“I like rim jobs,” I say defensively. “Giving and receiving.”
He licks me one more time, making me shudder. “Not true, Jay. You love them. Giving and receiving,” he says, and I smile as I heat up more from the way he knows me so well.
Beck rises, grabs the lube and gets me ready. When I’m amped up, I throw him down on his back, so I can climb over him and slick up his hard shaft.
The second I touch him, he’s cursing. “Fuck yes,” he groans. “Get on me.”
“You love it when I ride your dick.”
“I fucking do,” he says.
We ditched condoms a few weeks ago; we’re both negative and exclusive. I sink onto his gorgeous shaft with no barriers, reveling in him stretching my body. “Gonna fuck your cock like I own it,” I tell him.
“You do,” he says, curling his hands tight around my hips.
I ride him like a cowboy, treating his dick like it was made for my pleasure.
“Jesus, you’re so big. So fucking strong,” he mutters as he stares at me. He’s not talking about my cock. He means all of me, and I feel the same way about him. I can push his body to the limits in bed just like I push mine to the limits on the field. We know how far we can go, how hard we can ride, how hot we can fuck.
And we know when to switch.
A few minutes into a fantastic, sweaty trip up and down his shaft, I’m damn ready to bury my cock inside him.
“There’s this other idea I have,” I say in a rasp.
“Do it. Fuck me now,” he begs.
Soon, he’s on all fours, and I’m working him open with my fingers. When he’s thrusting his ass against my hand, I’m sure he’s ready, and I notch the head of my cock against him and slide home.