Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“Can’t believe I had my first kiss in a dirty locker room,” I mutter to myself as I push past him. Or at least I try to. He’s a brick wall that doesn’t budge an inch.
“First?” His eyes widen in surprise.
Oh gosh. Why do I keep embarrassing myself? At least I use his surprise to my advantage, pushing past him and making my escape from the locker room. Not that there is anywhere to go. And the heavy footsteps sounding behind me tell me even if there was, Bear doesn’t seem keen on letting me get too far away.
Chapter Thirteen
Bear
First kiss. I like that. I like that a lot. First kiss means the first time anyone’s touched that sweet pussy was me. Maybe the first time shouldn’t have been in a fighters’ locker room. First times need flowers and candles and music and other romantic shit, but having sunk my knuckles into that hot, juicy hole, I can’t locate any true regret. Like, I’d be lying if I apologized. I’m not sorry I fingered her. I’m not sorry I ate her out. I can still taste and feel her as I sit at my desk and I’m already envisioning driving my cock into her. In fact, my active imagination can easily conjure up a scene where I knock someone out, run to the locker room, and take Honey on one of the benches.
She would need to wear one of her pretty dresses so it would be easy to flip her skirt up. I’d use the fabric to frame her butt and watch her ass cheeks jiggle as I drove my shaft in and out of her cunt. I reach under my desk and pull my jeans away from my dick. It’s hard to concentrate on the books when I’ve got sex on the mind, but I don’t know how I can think about anything else.
Touching her and tasting her was good, but it’s an appetizer. I’ve never liked the small finger food at the start of the meal. I want the big steak, the big potato with all the fixings. I want my fingers in her ass and my dick in her pussy or vice versa. I want it all.
So maybe the first time didn’t have all the hearts and candies that it should have. I can make that up to her. I type out a text to Shannon to get her to order some flowers for me, but before sending it, I have second thoughts.
Maybe this is the sort of thing I shouldn’t be delegating.
“Bear.”
I turn toward the door to see Shannon hovering in the entrance with a somber expression on her face. I rise and grab for my keys. “Paige sick?”
“No, but you should go to the hospital. Johnny’s taken a turn for the worse.”
“What do you mean?”
She wrings her hands. “I don’t know. The hospital called because you’re the emergency contact and said you should come and make arrangements.”
I curse under my breath. “Okay. Maybe send Honey to get Paige, yeah?”
Shannon nods.
“I’ll see them at the hospital.”
When I arrive, the front desk directs me to the fifth floor. The quietness on Johnny’s floor is making that hard-to-reach space between my shoulder blades itch. I don’t like hospitals in general, but there should be more movement here, more activity. There’s a nurse ducking out of the fighters’ room.
“Hey, I’m here to see Johnny Derulo.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re Bear Chan.” She digs in her pocket. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Ah, I guess.” I take the pen and scribble on the back of a pad she presents. “The guy inside. He all right?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not able to share that information.”
“I’m his emergency contact. Benjamin Chan.”
Her eyes widen and then fly to the chart in her arms. “You are. I did not make the connection. Well, I’ll get the doctor. He can explain to you.” She flees after that.
My brows furrow together. That was weird. Inside, nothing in the room seems to have changed. There are a few flowers that are dying. I pinch off the dead leaves and drop them in the trash. Johnny looks the same as he did when I first came, which is not great. I don’t have a lot of experience with people in his condition, so I don’t know how people tell if a coma patient is doing worse. I guess it’s based on what the machines say.
Finally, the doctor comes in. She’s shorter than I am by about eight inches and doesn’t look old enough to drive, let alone be a doctor.
“Mr. Chan? I understand that you are Mr. Derulo’s emergency contact.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m sorry to tell you that at 0756 this morning, Mr. Derulo became non responsive to stimuli. We tried to revive him, but unfortunately we were not able to. He has a DNR which we have observed, but we wanted to give you an opportunity to say goodbye.” She gives me a short nod and then leaves, her nurse or attendant or whoever that was trailing behind.