Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I hadn’t really expected him to say something disgusting about the fact that I was bisexual, but I guess I was always prepared for a conversation to move in that direction. Women usually had strong feelings about it, either they didn’t understand my attraction to men or fully supported it, but they rarely asked for some novelty sexual experience. It was always the men who asked. Who insinuated and implied how much they’d like to see me with another woman or assumed that I would be interested in a threesome because I found women attractive. It didn’t matter if I was in a relationship with the man or I was just getting to know him—the conversation almost always veered in that direction.
Bishop was the first to accept it without strings or jealousy. I wasn’t a novelty to him.
“I’ve had threesomes,” I blurted out. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe to test him? To make sure he wasn’t too good to be true? To see if I could turn him off?
“Cool,” he said, bracing his hands on his hips. “I haven’t.”
“Just so you know,” I mumbled awkwardly.
“Honey,” he said, his brows creased in confusion. “Are you askin’ for a threesome?”
“No!”
“Then I’m not sure where this conversation is goin’,” he said with a short laugh. “I’m more than happy—hell, grateful even—to have you in my bed. Don’t need anythin’ beyond you and me.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Okay, cool. I’m always careful and stuff, just to clarify.”
“Good to know. So am I.” He just stood there, his hands on his hips, waiting for me to figure out what the fuck I was doing.
Letting out a long breath, I pushed my hair away from my face. Then, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I was being so weird. Sex was easy. It was fun. I was good at it and I already knew that Bishop and I were good together. Why the hell was I being such a dork?
“Still gonna wear a condom, though,” Bishop said after a few moments.
“Uh, yeah, you are,” I replied, making him grin.
“Come here, honey,” he said, his lips still turned up at the corners. “I’ve been waitin’ all day for this.”
Because I clearly hadn’t gotten the weirdness out of my system, I did a dorky skip-step over to him, making him laugh. I was slightly mortified as he gripped my bare hips and smiled down at me.
“I might need you to do that again,” he said in mock seriousness. “Because your tits were bouncing all over the place and it was fuckin’ fantastic.”
“Shut up,” I replied, laughing.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“I’m gorgeous,” I joked, wrapping my arms around his neck. “But I’ve got nothing on you.”
“Honey, the scales aren’t anywhere close to even,” he replied, sliding his hands around until he was gripping my ass. I could feel the scratchy edges of the condom tucked between his fingers. “You’ve got me beat by a mile.”
He leaned down to kiss me, and it was like every molecule in my body danced. There he is.
We made our way slowly to the bed, a single step backward, then two, both of us sliding our hands over anything we could reach. His fingers traced the base of my spine and the crack of my ass, mine trailed along his ribcage and the muscles of his abdomen. He kissed my neck. I bit down gently on his nipple, freezing him in place until I’d let go.
When the back of my knees hit the side of the mattress, Bishop pulled away.
“Careful now,” he murmured, helping me onto the bed.
“It’s just a scratch,” I said quietly, pulling him toward me. “You’ll probably have worse on your back by the time we’re done.”
“Charlie,” he said, fitting his hips between my thighs. “You draw blood with your fingernails, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“I was joking,” I said, fighting a smile.
“So was I,” he whispered, leaning down until our noses were almost touching. “Doubt I’d even notice. The roof could fuckin’ cave in and I’d still be oblivious.”
He was careful this time around. The last time we’d had sex, things had been so frantic. A game. Built up frustration that had finally exploded. This time, things went slowly. A touch here, a kiss there, his fingers entwined with mine.
When he finally slid inside me, I gasped. The puzzle pieces analogy was so damn cheesy, but so true in that moment. We fit together so perfectly. There was no struggle. No discomfort.
Missionary had never been so damn good before.
“Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment as he tipped his head toward the ceiling.
I knew exactly how he felt.
My skin tingled. Every inch of my felt overly sensitized. Then he began to move, and I was the one cursing under my breath.
I watched him through hazy eyes as he braced himself on one hand above me, his other hand wrapped around my thigh. He shifted, searching my face. Then he shifted again and I yelped.