Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I turn my head. “You think?”
“Yep.” He pauses. “Well, unless I blinded you with that cum or somethin’. Doesn’t it sting?”
“I’m fairly sure you didn’t impregnate my eye,” I assure him.
He lets out an irritated groan. “Fuckin’ still embarrassed.”
“No need to be.”
“Well, I am.”
I smile, then sit up, grip the wet washcloth, and wipe him off gently, starting with his cock.
He uncovers his face at once and stares down. “Hey, what the hell are you doin’?”
“What’s it look like? Cleaning you up.”
“I don’t need—” His body lets out an erotic moan without his permission when I gently squeeze at the tip and twist a little. “I’m thinkin’ you need to be careful before I shoot at your eye again.”
“You enjoy that?” I ask innocently, doing the same maneuver.
Again, his whole body bucks and he lets out another, longer groan of unbridled pleasure. “Okay, uh, seriously, stop that.”
“Seems like you’re already ready for round two. See how easy that is?” I give the tip one more subtle twist of the cloth. Anthony whimpers in direct response. “Like a control stick.”
He sits up completely and grabs my hand.
I stare back at him.
We’re both holding his dick now, in a way, through the soft wet washcloth.
“I don’t get it,” he says, his voice nearly breath. “How you can make me so damned mad one second … then make me feel like I’m a precious treasure the next.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
His eyes drift down my face and linger on my lips. “Somethin’ like that.”
The touch of his hand atop mine, the surprising softness of his skin, the way he’s gazing into my eyes right now. “Think I got you all wrong, Anthony. Ever since the gas station.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’re a lot more capable than anyone in your life so far has given you credit for. All those wise things you said about letting others decide what we are?” I shake my head. “Went half my life being made to feel like a … like an ant,” I decide, choosing the right insect. “Only meant to do work. To follow orders, walk in line. Insignificant. Held beneath a thumb … the threat of being … squashed every day …”
“You talkin’ about your old man?”
I meet Anthony’s eyes, surprised. “What?”
“Heard you had a prick of a dad growin’ up.” His grip changes. Now it feels less like he’s stopped me from cleaning his dick and more like we’re holding hands. “I can relate. My dad’s a dick, too. So what’d you do? How’d you get out from under his thumb?”
Something inside me crumbles. “Not sure I … ever did.” I look down. “Some days, still feels like he’s standing over me. Can still see the fear on my mom and little brother’s faces.”
“Fuck that motherfucker for doin’ that to you guys.”
I look at him, startled by his sudden anger on my behalf.
Then he leans forward and kisses me.
Out of the blue. No warning.
His soft lips, igniting me in a way nothing else has before. His force mixed with clumsy innocence, taking charge of my lips like he’s taken charge of a thousand before, confidence manifesting out of something deep inside him, something that’s been yearning to kiss for so long. The kiss is so strong, our lips seem to stay touching when the kiss ends and our faces separate, like hands that aren’t quite ready to let go, stuck together.
I stare into his eyes, breathless.
He stares back into mine.
“I think … I think that’s the first time someone’s ever called anything I said ‘wise’,” mutters Anthony thoughtfully. “I think I got you wrong, too, Bridger. Way wrong.”
“Fuck your dad, too,” I blurt out.
He squints at me, confused. Then suddenly he laughs.
Then I laugh, too.
And then our faces rush together for another kiss. The kiss deepens. The washcloth is forgotten. I’m laying him back down on the bed and crawling over him. His hands find my chest, pressing against them, as I give and take kiss after kiss from his giving lips. The sexual appetite between us is revived in full, and with every charged kiss we share, I feel something letting go inside me.
“I’m ready,” he says against my lips.
I pull back to look into his eyes. “Ready? For what?”
“I want you to … to do it. To fuck me.”
Hearing him say that—those words, those exact words, with that crackled and needing tone of voice, looking at me with those dopey blue eyes—it makes it nearly impossible to resist.
“I brought condoms,” he says. “In my backpack. I don’t know why I did. But I did. I packed lube, too.”
“Lube, too?”
“Please just do it. Please fuck me. I don’t want anyone else on God’s green earth to do it. I want to feel you inside me. I want to … t-to know what it’s like. I want you to do it. Please.”