Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I change my tack and go for his sweatpants. He yelps out in surprise like I just tickled him as I manage to untie the drawstring.
Not that I need to in order to see what he’s packing.
You know the magic of gray sweatpants.
You see it all. Every time they move. Every step they walk. It just hangs there like an open invitation. Greeting you. Winking suggestively. Saying hello as it swings side to side.
He wore these revealing fuckers on purpose.
Samuel presses my back to the wall, pinning my arms there, the towel falling over my shoulders. For a moment, I’m totally into it, thinking it’s a sexy thing, a hot precursor to making out.
Instead, it’s apparently a precursor to a lecture. “You were at the rehearsal dinner thing, right? At the church? Is that why you showed up on my doorstep? You saw Jimmy and Bobby bein’ all cutesy and it made you crazy and get drunk?”
“It’s—ugh, my head—more than that.”
“I can’t believe you’d be so reckless, walkin’ out in a storm … You realize things get struck by lightning out here, right?”
“You should’ve been there.” I try to shove his hands off of my arms, but he’s stronger and keeps me pinned. “Let me go, bully.”
“Why are you drunk? Weren’t you helping out your dad?”
“I wasn’t there working. I was sent there with Cole as my plus-one. Nadine did her ‘Nadine thing’.” I feel bad suddenly. “I think Cole really hates me now. I told him about the kiss. Our kiss.”
Samuel sucks his bottom lip in, then sighs. “Well, I guess he—”
“Then Jimmy was nice to me,” I cut him off. “What in the hell was that about? Nice?? Probably a tactic. I bet he’s laughing at me right now, went back to his table to laugh about me to all his … his stupid bro-friends. And to Bobby. Why did I even come to this evil town? Why am I here? Spruce is a wicked place.”
He brings his hands to my cheeks, cradling them like a baby’s. “They aren’t here. Bobby and Jimmy. Those guys can’t annoy you anymore, alright? They’re down the street at that church stuffing their faces with your father’s food. Totally gross, right?”
“Totally.”
“So just forget about them. Stay here with me. Away from all of that. Out of the storm.” His thumbs start to stroke my cheeks. I close my eyes, enjoying it. “I said I’d be your safe place, right?”
“You did,” I agree—then lean forward to kiss him again.
And again, he pulls away before my lips can touch his. “No.”
I shove him off of me. The towel drops from my shoulders to the floor. “Why not?? I need to forget about happy couples! It’ll be Christmas soon and this is what I want from Santa.”
“A mouth? A kiss? I’m not just a mouth or a kiss.”
“Why are you being so difficult??”
“Because you’re drunk, Malcolm. What you need is someone to take care of you. You’re not yourself.” He takes a step back from me and crosses his arms. “And I’m not about takin’ advantage of anyone when they’re in this state. I have morals.”
Just then, his sweatpants fall down.
All the way down.
Right to his ankles.
And I learn that Samuel isn’t wearing underwear.
And if his t-shirt wasn’t hanging just low enough to cover his cock and balls, it would be on full display right now.
I lift an eyebrow. “Morals, you were saying …?”
He’s already grabbed his sweatpants, red-faced, and yanked them back up. “Damn it, you went and undid my drawstring!”
“That’s gravity’s fault, not mine.”
“These dang things won’t stay up otherwise. Elastic’s all worn. Need to get a new pair.”
As he starts tying it again, I saunter up to him. “Samuel.”
He meets my eyes.
I put my hand over his, stopping him from tying any further. “I’m myself. I’m in my right mind. I know what I’m doing and what I’m asking for. You aren’t taking advantage of anyone.”
“Malcolm …”
I pull his hands from the drawstring. It comes loose.
His pants fall right back down to his ankles.
“I denied you last night,” I remind him. “I turned you away. I was overly emotional. I was stubborn … but I’m not anymore.”
“Malc, I’m not gonna—”
I take hold of his dick.
That shuts him right up.
He fills my palm and every finger I’ve got. He isn’t totally soft. Maybe all the excitement of everything has pumped some blood down there, waking him up. It won’t take much at all to make him reveal the rest of the inches he’s got.
“There you go,” I murmur quietly, suggestively, “using the pet name you’ve given me. It makes me feel so cute and adored. I like when you call me that.” I start to stroke him.
His eyes rock back. He takes hold of my wrist, but makes very little effort to stop its movement. “M-Malc, please …”