Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“I was late for a thing with my dad. We always go for a run on Saturday mornings, and then we have brunch together. He was worried, and you and I had agreed the night before that we weren’t making this a thing, so . . .”
He jams a hand in his pocket. “So it had nothing to do with my performance?”
“No. Your stamina is legendary and your performance was exemplary. You probably devoted a good hour or more to providing oral pleasure, which is more than I can say for any guy I’ve ever been with before.” I need to stop talking; instead I keep rambling, trying to erase the concerned look on his gorgeous face. “Plus, I came a million times, and we didn’t even have sex. And you needed almost zero recovery time before you were ready to go again.” I stupidly motion to his crotch, drawing attention to it. I also happen to notice that the fabric is tight there—indicating this conversation might be making him as excited as it’s making me, based on the hardness of my nipples and the very noticeable ache between my thighs.
Not that I’m going to do anything about it, even though I kind of want to. Okay, I definitely want to.
“That’s good. About my performance, I mean. And having legendary stamina.” One side of his mouth quirks up, the first hint of a smile since I caught him lurking outside my window. “You were great too.”
“Thanks?” I’m not sure if he’s tacked on the compliment just because.
“I’ve thought about your mouth a lot since that night.”
I’m not sure if he’s referencing my blow job skills or what. “That’s . . . good.”
“My ex-girlfriend wouldn’t do that . . .” He cringes and trails off.
“Whoa, wait. She wouldn’t do what?”
“Uh.” He motions to his crotch, which is kind of hilarious, since he’s very much a graphic talker when he’s getting down and dirty. Politely graphic, though. “Use her mouth on me.” He mumbles the last part, so it’s hard to hear.
“Your ex wouldn’t blow you?”
He jams one hand in his pocket and rubs the back of his neck with the other. “She had a sensitive gag reflex.”
“Did she even try?”
“Like, once or twice. It wasn’t . . . enjoyable for either of us.”
“I guess that relationship didn’t last long, huh?”
His cheeks puff out. “Uh, actually we were together for a long time.”
I’m totally enthralled with the turn this conversation has taken. “How long is a long time?” I dated a guy for almost a year once, and it was on and off during that time. It was during college, when I also almost completed my art degree.
“Around eight years.”
I’m very glad I’m not drinking anything; as it is, I almost choke on my own spit. “You went eight years without a blow job?”
“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
I wave away the apology. My curiosity about this guy has shot up several levels. That chick must have really had him by the balls for him to go without oral for that long. “I mean, I guess I can see how she might’ve been a little overwhelmed, because you’ve got a lot going on in that department.” I gesture to his crotch again. “But it’s not like you’d try to force the whole thing down her throat without some baby steps first.”
I fight a smirk because I rocked the hell out of deep throating all that length and girth, and it’s a significant amount of both. My nosiness takes over, and I can’t seem to control the questions that come out of my mouth. “Did she even like, lick it? Kiss it? Suck on the head, at least?”
Kingston blinks several times in a row and then swallows thickly. “Uh, no. She didn’t.”
“Wow.” She seems like a prissy bitch. I don’t like her. All she had to do was lollipop it, even if she couldn’t get more than the head in. Mostly I think it’s an excuse not to be a giver. I keep that to myself, though, in case he’s the kind of guy who stays friends with his exes. For some reason that makes me jealous. I’m just a notch on his blow job bedpost. “How long have you two been broken up?”
“Um, more than half a year.” He shifts around, like maybe this is making him uncomfortable.
“So you’ve had lots of time to make up for all those missed BJs, then.” I’m being tongue in cheek. He’s a hockey player, a professional one, although maybe not super high profile, considering I had no idea who he was until today. Granted, my dad offered me the job two days ago, right after I got passed over for yet another service industry opportunity, so I didn’t have much time to prepare, or to study the members of the team. Also, I’ve been avoiding hockey since my first year of college, not because I hate the sport but because of the memories I associate with it.