Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Then I felt him. His hole tightening around my cock, milking me for every last drop while he came all over my chest.
Once the dust had settled and our orgasms ceased, Charlie collapsed onto me, neither of us caring much about the sticky wet mess that spread between us.
“Wow,” Charlie said, catching his breath. “Holy fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before.”
“Same,” I admitted. We kissed, soft and slow, just like our thrusts but translated instead to our lips. I traced gentle circles on Charlie’s back and tried to disappear in the sensation of his weight on top of me. The storm didn’t let up, rain beginning to clatter even harder against the windows, a strong wind adding to Mother Nature’s chorus.
“Have we… have we had sex before?” Charlie asked. His gaze was turned to my lips, and he was so close that I could feel his breath as he asked.
“We have. We were each other’s first time. It wasn’t as smooth as tonight, that’s for sure, but it was just as great. And then the next day was when everything blew up between us. From one blowup to another.”
“Fuck,” Charlie said. “We didn’t fuck until three years in?”
“No, you were really against it, at first. I respected it and waited… But let’s not live in the past. I think it’s safe to say we just fucked ourselves a blank slate.”
Charlie laughed, his breath tickling the tip of my nose. “I’m not sure that’s how that works, but okay.” He leaned in and kissed me again. Fuck, I love how his lips feel.
Fuuuuuuck.
Five years ago, a year ago—hell, seven months ago—I never would have imagined I’d be smiling into Charlie’s eyes again, feeling that same giddy and uncontrollable spread of warmth and connection I had felt when we shared our first secret kiss at eighteen. But our first few chapters weren’t without their challenges. Charlie couldn’t handle us being together—he couldn’t say that he was gay outright—so instead he told me that he’d never love me. He didn’t just say that out loud—he shouted it.
That day was dark, and Charlie only knew a fraction of it. How could I tell him that he had called me a faggot and said that I deserved whatever punishment was coming for me. All this after I had asked him to go public or to put our hooking up on pause until he was ready to come out. I just couldn’t do the secret thing anymore, I couldn’t.
But Charlie snapped. And I could see now that it had all come from inside, that none of those words had any true substance behind them. He spoke out of the pain and trauma that came from all his own self-inflicted mental wounds. Of course, that’s all said with hindsight. In the moment, those words had the same substance as a twelve-inch butcher knife stabbing and slicing without abandon.
He broke my heart, and I cast him off, finding love again in Dean, thinking we’d be together until we were old and gray and saggy all over.
Life clearly had other plans, and I had no choice but to bob along the river.
I kissed Charlie. I decided I’d tell him the full story one day, just not tonight.
Tonight was for basking in new beginnings, and that’s exactly what I wanted to do. “Come, let’s go take a bubble bath before we have to call the jaws of life to pry us apart.”
Charlie laughed again. Thankfully, we hadn’t cemented ourselves into one big gay block of sweaty man-meat.
Now, I wasn’t one to typically gloat, especially about superficial bullshit, but I had to admit one thing: my bathroom was fucking bomb. It was one of the main reasons why I’d decided to buy this place instead of renting somewhere else. It had been recently redone and turned into a full spa experience pulled right from Paris. The claw-foot bathtub sat on designer blue-and-white tiles that complemented the brushed-gold fixtures and mirrors. The huge shower had two waterfall showerheads and jets in the dark stone walls, which worked wonders on sore muscles. A window above the tub looked out to my private yard, which made it a really great spot to look at the fog-coated mountaintops in the morning.
“Wow, this is stunning,” Charlie said, his eyes wide. “It makes me want to get into interior design. It’s that inspiring.”
“You should. You always had good style. I think you’d be good at it.” I bent over and turned on the water, already knowing the perfect ratio of hot and cold.
“Eh, maybe. It could be my plan B.”
“And plan A? Is it still wildlife management?”
Charlie cocked his head and leaned back on the counter. I had to work hard to avoid getting distracted by his naked body. “Maybe. I don’t know, that’s what my bachelor’s is in, and I’m thinking I can go for a PhD, but I’ve also been thinking about finding work at a nonprofit and working my way up there. Maybe at an animal sanctuary or something.”