Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“You sure it’s a good idea to leave that unattended?” Is what she greets me with at the front of our vehicles. My hand slides to her lower back.
“It’s just a car, sweetheart.” Celeste arches her brow as if I should be more concerned than I am with my car in the open parking lot.
“Okay, if you say so.” I just shake my head, letting her know with unspoken words that it doesn’t bother me that the car cost might stand out along the other vehicles. It’s just a car, expensive nonetheless, but that’s what car insurance is for.
“I do. Any idea on what you’re in the mood for dinner wise?” I ask. I can feel how tight her muscles are beneath the palm of my hand, realizing we never did talk about why she was upset back at the hotel.
“Not at all. I’m not picky, though Chinese sounds delicious. Egg drop soup, the crispy beef, and lobster pho at The District is to die for. A mix of Chinese and Vietnamese food, chef’s kiss.” Celeste is animated about what she likes, a quality I can enjoy.
“Well, it sounds like we have a plan.” We finish walking to her apartment. It’s not that far away from where our vehicles are parked. There are plenty of lights leading the way, seemingly safe.
“This is it,” Celeste says, pointing to her apartment, keys hanging loosely in her hand. I take them from her and unlock the door, then stand back and watch as she walks inside.
“Your pet?” I ask after she presses two fingers to her lips and places them on the framed portrait of a dog. It’s a picture of the two of them, Celeste smiling, carefree, and the dog doing a version of his own with his tongue hanging out to the side.
“Yeah, though Creedence is gone now. He was my very first pet. I still miss him.” I can hear the melancholy in her voice. I don’t bother apologizing; it’s like telling people you’ll be there for them after a funeral for a loved one, when they know damned well they all seem to disappear when you need them the most.
“I’ll only be fifteen minutes, max twenty. Make yourself at home. There are drinks in the fridge, and the remote is on the coffee table.” My hand touches hers, squeezing it in mine then pulling her body closer to me. I wrap my arms around her and feel her relax in my arms, taking my strength freely.
“Take your time. I’ve got nothing but time for you, sweetheart.” My lips go to hers, gently, even if I’d love nothing more to take this hard, deeper. That’s not what she needs right now. Being soft, letting her soak in what she needs is exactly what I’ll give her.
“Alright,” Celeste responds, still soft against me, until she’s ready to leave me. I stay where I am, waiting, letting her take whatever time she needs.
“You okay, Celeste?” I ask, standing still.
“I will be. I’ll be back.” I watch as she walks down the hallway, a sway to her hips, making me feel like I’m resisting the siren’s call when a ship has been gone for far too long and searching for a light. It takes everything in me not to follow her, not to press my front to her back, cup her breasts, her hands reaching out for the wall as I kick those long legs apart, legs that I’ve been dreaming of being between, whether it be my mouth, my hands, or my cock. Fuck, if I keep up this way of thinking, I’ll end up doing just that.
I move to the couch and take in the atmosphere of her place, how she’s turned something that’s bland in the apartment builder-grade style into her own. The vintage vibe mellows you out. The olive-green couch that I sit down on is more comfortable than I thought it would be. I locate the remote on the long rectangular coffee table, porous stone on the top, dark wood on the bottom, holding a shit ton of magazines, and turn on the TV. I quickly find a football game. It’s not the team I usually watch, but it’s enough to keep my mind preoccupied from thinking about Celeste stripping out of her clothes, taking a shower if she is, water coasting down her naked body, or the thought of what she’s sliding on what I’m bound to eventually see.
The football drowns out everything around me. The humming of the fridge that I could hear when I sat down is now gone. The TV has my full attention even if I should be at least checking emails, returning texts or voicemails. That’s when my eyes close and my head tips back, and with no intention of falling asleep, that’s exactly what happens.