Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I hate this fucking life, and I think I knew that long before everything blew up. I never imagined that everything I do, every choice I make, would become public knowledge. What gives people a right to be in the middle of my life? I’m a performer. They like my music and buy a ticket to my concert, and I sing and put on a show. That’s exactly where it should begin and end. I owe them nothing else.
Becoming agitated again, I nearly fall over trying to get my socks off my feet, but I eventually manage.
The negative thoughts swirling around in my head were very effective in getting rid of my erection, so that’s one less thing I have to worry about when I tug open the door to the sauna. My mood is no better now than it was when Brooks pulled open his condo door, and that’s saying something because that kiss was out of this world.
Feeling tainted, I take a seat on the lower bench several feet from the top corner position Brooks is occupying.
My mood gets marginally better when he scoots closer. He positions himself directly behind me, his leg brushing my shoulder.
The deflation of my erection takes a reversal role, with only the hair on his calf sliding against my bare skin.
I turn around to look at him, jerking my eyes back forward when I realize I can see right up his towel with him sitting that way. I can’t actually see his cock because the lighting is so dim in here. Knowing there’s literally nothing separating that part of him and me if I decide to reach up there makes me a little crazy.
My mind goes into overdrive. Is it an offer or an oversight?
I groan, pressing my palm to the erection tenting my towel.
When his sweat-damp hand brushes my back, he might as well have wrapped his lips around my cock for the way my body responds to it.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” he says, his towel brushing my skin when he leans forward.
“I’m trying,” I mutter.
The brazen man I’ve been at my own house, in my own space, is gone. He no longer exists. I feel shy all of a sudden, second-guessing every breath he takes, every twitch he makes.
“Think this will help?” he asks as both hands land on my shoulders, his fingers massaging the tension there. “Lean back.”
“Jesus, fuck,” I whisper, but he doesn’t counter my response.
Maybe I said it low enough he didn’t hear me.
I do as he suggests because I’m feeling shy not stupid, and swear the man is just as hard as I am.
“There you go. Feeling better?”
I nod, the only thing I can manage right now. All blood and oxygen seem to be heading south at the moment.
What the fuck do I do? How am I supposed to act? Is this an invitation? Is my mind making shit up again? Am I reading this wrong?
I don’t know the answer to any of that shit, but what I do know is, I will regret not trying to find out.
Taking a risk that feels bigger than me, I run my palm up Brooks’s calf. He doesn’t kick at me or try to shake off my touch, so I call it a win. I sit there, letting the tension in my shoulders evaporate under his magical hands while rubbing my own palm up and down his calf.
But like all things in life for me, it quickly becomes not enough.
Slowly, making sure Brooks is aware of me, I turn around, drawing a leg up on the bench I’m sitting on. I keep my focus on the hand on his calf for a long moment before I can build enough courage to look the man in the eyes.
Now at the wrong angle to massage my shoulders, Brooks’s palm runs down my chest, and I barely withhold the groan that threatens to erupt from low in my belly. I have no doubt about what’s happening the second Brooks licks his lips in anticipation.
I shift again, coming up on my knees to press my mouth to his.
And like the entire universe is out to cockblock me, the sauna door swings open, and there’s just enough time for me to move to the other side of the room before two elderly men round the corner.
They each nod at us before continuing whatever conversation they were having before they entered.
“Ready to go?” I ask after a few minutes, so it doesn’t seem like we’re leaving just because they came in.
“Still need a few more minutes,” Brooks says, his eyes dropping to the front of my towel.
The problem I had under control comes roaring back.
I can tell by the glint in his eyes that tonight could possibly end up being the best night of my life.