Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” I grabbed the glass and gulped. It was something I had learned from therapy. To get an icy cold drink and focus on the path it takes, focus on the sensations around the tip of the tongue, around the back of the mouth, down the throat, follow it down into the belly. It helped center myself when my feet felt unmoored from the ground.
“You know,” I said, setting the glass down on a coaster, “if I knew we were putting on a show, I would have charged the guy.”
More laughs, each one settling over my chest like a blanket.
“Wouldn’t be a bad gig,” he said, his British accent making his words sound like a song.
“Nope. Especially not if you were my costar.”
Beckham’s smile tilted back into that smolder I had melted for moments earlier. The fear had effectively killed my boner, but I certainly wasn’t opposed to getting things back up and running.
I leaned into his neck, kissing him, my hand back on his chest. His hand closed around my wrist. It felt good—it felt as grounding as the water had.
It wasn’t enough. My breathing was out of control, and I could still feel my heart beating hard, too hard. It didn’t help that I was nervous to be with such a stud of a man. That added to the nerves. It made things worse.
“You’re so amazingly sexy.” Beckham’s voice was like honey, and it dripped over my body as his hands trailed lines of electricity down my sides. His cock was already rock hard and pushing up against me.
I wanted him. I wanted him bad.
And yet, when his hands moved downward, over my bulge, he wasn’t met with the same. I was soft, and nothing was happening. All the blood rushed everywhere in my body but to my dick.
Come on. Relax. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
I put a hand on his face, feeling the soft stubble of a beard, and brought his lips to mine. I hoped he couldn’t feel the thumping of my heart through my kiss.
This was the absolute worst-case scenario. My head was all “yes, yes, holy mother of gay balls, yes please put your dick on his and have the time of your life” and yet my dick was saying “nope, can’t right now, check back in a few hours.” It was a disconnect that lit a flame underneath my cheeks. I was beyond embarrassed. How could I let this happen right now? This man turned me on to no end, and yet I couldn’t get it up. I couldn’t stop my heart from ramming against my rib cage. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from being pure venom, turning this situation into an even bigger deal in my head.
“I’m sorry,” I said, surprised that my voice cracked. Was I about to cry?
A knot tangled in my throat. I felt dumb, pathetic. Logically, I knew none of this could be controlled. There was an expectation that guys could control their dicks, as if it was another appendage. But there was no button to press or lever to turn to go from soft to hard. Dicks were as elusive and as misunderstood as the female orgasm was to a gaggle of hetero fraternity guys.
If things weren’t happening, they weren’t happening.
That still didn’t ease the feeling of guilt and shame I had. Mix that with the anxiety and fear still percolating in my chest, and you’ve got a concoction similar to that of lava.
“Not a worry,” he said. His eyes told me he meant it.
“It’s just… I’m a little shaken. I just need a minute.”
“You take as much time as you need. More water?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m okay.” I was saying it more for myself than anyone else.
“We don’t have to…”
“I want to.” My voice was steady, even though my hands were shaking.
I took a deep breath. I leaned in, and once again, I moved to kiss him. His taste was addictive, and the feel of his lips on mine was literally all I wanted for the rest of my entire life.
It still wasn’t enough to keep the worry and the darkness at bay. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. I was safe, and I was comfortable. Beckham wanted me as bad as I wanted him, and the rest of the night was ours and ours alone. No more drunken intrusions, no more dark thoughts. I didn’t have to think about Derrick. About how I watched his life—
“I can’t.” My head felt like it was about to explode. Even my eyes hurt. I stood up, trying to control the breaths that were slamming into my lungs. I tried not to think about how far away I was from home. How oceans crossed the distance between my family and me. How I was currently having a breakdown in front of one of the hottest guys I’d ever crossed paths with.