Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Yeah, that would be cheesy.”
“Yeah…” He looks away.
But I could tell, even as he made the comment, it wasn’t a joke. And I wouldn’t have wanted it to be a joke.
“So, Zane…why don’t you just tell me what you really want to do?” My words come out like I can’t hold them in, like they’re telling on some secret desire that lingers within me that I haven’t quite come to terms with. Judging by the way his eyes widen, they clearly surprise him too.
“Wh—what?”
“Why make a joke out of it like that when you obviously want something?”
Maybe I want it too.
What the fuck am I thinking?
Although, I don’t know that thinking has much to do with any of this.
This is primal.
I didn’t consider this when I brought him to my bedroom, but now that he’s here, something curious within me wants to get to the bottom of what I’ve been thinking about since our chat.
Get to the bottom. Fucking apt.
“What do you actually want?” I ask, like I’m demanding a confession.
He flinches, then studies me for a moment, as if he’s considering the consequences of what he wants to say.
“Stop thinking about it, Zane. Just say it.”
We’ve already seen so much of each other—when we shared that shit about our mental health. That was a hell of a lot harder to share than what I want now.
His jaw tenses. I’m convinced he’d tell me this is a shit idea, but his gaze is right on mine as he says, “I’m thinking I don’t want you having some half-ass experience the first time. You don’t know what you’re doing back there. That I’d be better at showing you what it feels like than your fingers or some fucking toy.” He sounds like he has a personal grudge against it. “And that I want to watch your expressions for your first time, see how much it gets to you…how out of control it makes you as your body bows to my touch.”
My face is hot again, but it’s not from embarrassment.
He approaches me slowly. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I spit out. Once again, it’s like I don’t have control over my own fucking mouth. It’s fucking telling on me, but I don’t want it to stop. Not when he’s looking at me like that.
“Take off your clothes,” he says, and a jolt of excitement races through me.
I like Zane bossing me around. Saying what he really wants rather than keeping it bottled up.
He moves toward me. It’s wild to think how terrified I was of him those first few times we met, especially considering how hard my dick’s getting in my pants right now, and he clearly notices. A smile slips across his face as he looks at me. “Take off your clothes, and get on the bed,” he says, much softer this time.
I hesitate for a moment, but then fearing I might overthink it and talk myself out of it, I toss my beanie on the bed. Then I remove my shirt before tucking my thumbs in the waistband on either side of my jeans, pulling them down with my boxers, revealing how hard I am at the mere thought of doing this with him. I step out of them and stand before him. His gaze trails up and down me, drinking me in…and God, if that doesn’t make my stiff dick twitch even more.
He winces. “I thought you said you were straight.”
“No. You kept insisting I was straight.”
Not that I’d ever considered myself anything else, but my interest in him? That sure as hell isn’t straight.
He smirks, God, like he’s enjoying knowing how hard he’s made me.
I pull back my comforter and slide into bed.
I’m so out of my element. Here’s a guy who knows what he’s doing. Who wants to show me what he knows, and I’m fucking clueless, and nervous as fuck.
Without a word, Zane spins around and heads toward my desk.
I wonder where the hell he’s going when he grabs my swivel chair and pulls it over beside the bed.
“Lube?” he asks without looking at me.
“In the nightstand.”
He digs through it, and I can hardly judge him, considering how I rifled through the drawers in his kitchen when we first met. When he finds the bottle, he sits in the chair, then looks me over. “Lie back, relax.”
“The relaxing part’s more difficult.”
He smiles. “It’s okay. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. And you say the word, and we stop.”
His words help me settle in as he squirts a few pumps of lube onto his fingers. Setting the lube back on the nightstand, he reaches his left hand over my leg, watching my face as his fingers slide between my cheeks. “I’m only gonna play around it. Not going to go in yet.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You’re shaking.” He rests his other hand on my torso, his warmth soothing me some more, but making my dick firm too.