Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
She deserves a date, romance, and affection. She deserves to know how much she means to me.
With a grunt, I keep punching the heavy bag. It rocks on its hinges, whining, and my mind must be in one hell of a place because the noise reminds me of Harper—of her moans as I rubbed her pussy. Her whimpers teased me as I dragged my dick up her voluptuous thighs toward her sex.
She looked so angelic as she peered over her shoulder, more strands of her hair coming loose, her eyes wide, innocent, and mine.
I shouldn’t have left her like that, abandoned her half-naked on the bed, tangled in her clothes. I should’ve told her how much I want her.
Forever.
But then what?
In an ideal world, I’d ask her on a date. I’d try to keep the more possessive aspects of my desire at bay, at least for a little while, not wanting to overload her with the full force of everything I need.
But I can’t. I have to think of Adam.
I hit the bag again, again, and again.
I have to think of my best friend.
Not my woman, ass aimed at me, and the word virgin on her lips.
That evening, I lie in Adam’s guest bed, struggling to relax as I think about the fact that hours ago, my woman was lying right here, bouncing up and down on my dick, her ass cheeks caressing me…
I roll over and pick up my phone. I’m normally not much of an anxious scroller. I’ve never been attached to my phone, but now I sit up and navigate to Harper’s podcasting website. Both Tiffany and Harper have emails listed.
I try to think of Adam sleeping just across the hall. The mere presence of my best friend should be enough to stop me from sending this email, but that pull is there again, that obsessive force, guiding my fingers.
It’s Bryson. I want to see you. I’m not happy with how I left things.
I click send, then lie on my back, closing my eyes and trying to summon sleep. I know it’s the worst way actually to fall asleep, this pursuit of it, but relaxation is a joke at this point.
If I let my mind wander, it dances off to visions of the future. Harper holding our first child, or beneath the altar, smiling up at me… or riding me, her virginal nerves swept aside, her breasts bouncing as she glides up and down on my cock.
Ah.
I push my face into the pillow, knowing I won’t be able to sleep tonight.
My phone buzzes. An email.
When? Harper has replied.
How about now?
It’s almost midnight. I expect her to say no.
She replies almost instantly. Okay. Pick me up?
Deal. I’ll shoot an email when I’m outside.
I stand quietly, feeling like a thief, as though I’ve broken into the house and am now sneaking out of it. Adam’s door is closed, the house quiet, every creaking noise seeming extra loud as I move down the stairs.
Once outside, I stride across the street to my car.
Despite the cold, I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt, hoping the bracing winter air will jolt some sense into me. It doesn’t.
As I drive across the city, I wonder what I will say to her, what I possibly could say that would make any of this acceptable. It’s not as though I can unload everything I want and need.
Or maybe that is the right thing to do since it would surely scare her and make her never want to see me again. If I told her how badly I’m thinking of a shared future, I can’t imagine a scenario in which she doesn’t call me crazy and tell me to stay away.
That’s the noble thing.
I think of Eva as I get closer to Harper’s apartment. Eva would have had a unique perspective on this, as she did on most things. I know she’d do her best to understand how I’m feeling, despite how obviously awkward it would be for her… despite the clear conflict of interest.
Eva would have some kind words, which would make me feel like less of a monster, but that’s not what I deserve.
Driving down Harper’s street, I tell myself to turn back. It’s not too late. Just because I’ve tasted my woman’s sweet lips and previewed her perfect body doesn’t mean I can’t stop. I could leave for the West Coast tonight. I could make an excuse, tell Adam I’m sorry, and disappear forever.
Stopping the car, I take out my phone, shooting off an email.
I’m here.
She replies almost instantly. A smirk touches my lips as I think about her refreshing the page, as eager as I am. This would all be perfect if it weren’t for the Adam-shaped hole in our unspoken plans.
Or my unspoken plans, since she’s got no clue what I’m dreaming about.