Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I had sent him the link to the book club and had gotten a tentative “yes,” so I wasn’t expecting much. I decided if Steve didn’t show up for this one, then I wouldn’t bother him with it anymore.
“So sorry I’m late. I had an issue at work.”
“No worries, Steve.” Jess raised her glass. “Do you have a drink?”
“I thought you were going to ask if I had the book.”
“Oh no, I’m talking about the important stuff here,” she said with a wink before diving into the explanation for her drinking game. The night slowly went back onto the predetermined track, with us discussing the chapters we had read, discovering the body was actually the metrical grandmother who was celebrating her birthday. We uncovered a few motives for who’d killed the grandmother, along with a couple of possible red herrings. I already clocked the killer from the opening pages, but it seemed like the rest of the group was still thrown by a couple of errant clues, so I held on to my theory and watched them throw some around. Colton had gotten the closest to my guess while also getting closer to me, moving his chair so that our elbows touched. At one point, our legs had crossed under the desk, and I left it there, rubbing my foot against his. It was such a simple but intimate touch and one that had me instantly rock hard.
The book club ended soon after. My foot was still on Colton’s, and I noticed his shorts were just as tented as mine. “Talking about books excites you, huh?” I teased.
“Yeah, literature gets me rock hard.”
“I can see that,” I said, looking down at the massive bulge. “We should take care of it.”
“We should,” Colton said. I opened my web browser, pulling up the video from earlier and sitting back in the chair, a hand in my shorts.
Colton licked his lips and pulled his shorts off, his stiff cock springing free, hitting his belly with a dull thud. His tip glistened with precum as he grabbed himself in a fist, opening his legs and massaging his balls with his other hand.
We jerked off again, but this time, we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. It was impossible. I had to feel him. Needed to hold him. I wanted to be the reason why Colton’s eyes rolled back. I reached for him, and he reached for me. Slow and soft, I relished every stroke, my toes curling into the floor as Colton stroked me all the way to an orgasm, cum dribbling out of my tip and over his closed fist. He spilled, too, his cock twitching in my grip, the both of us breathless and spent.
It was in that moment I was hit with a stark realization: this wasn’t fake. Nothing about us being together was fake. No matter what rules or regulations or whatever the fuck else we set up between us, my feelings for Colton were very real and very intense.
And I had to tell him. Tomorrow, I’d talk to him. I’d open up and bare it all for him, show him that I wanted him. That I’d never hurt him again.
But I’d talk to him tomorrow. Tonight had already been far too turbulent. By the time we climbed into bed, the two of us were asleep in minutes, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the pillows I had put up between us being tossed to the floor so that nothing separated us.
22
COLTON COOPER
The clinking of dishes in the sink drifted out of the archway leading into the kitchen. Sunlight poured through the open window. I could hear Kendall and Jax whispering together on the couch as I walked past them, a coffee cup in my hand. Neither of them looked at me.
A couple of days had passed since that trashier of a dinner without much happening. Everyone sort of avoided each other, which wasn’t necessarily ideal, but it did give time for Eric and me to brainstorm. The brainstorming sessions were usually pretty productive, until one of us would inevitably get hard and end up whipping it out, starting another friendly little stroke session between two fake boyfriends.
There were a couple of moments where it seemed like Eric wanted to talk about something. Maybe it was the post-nut clarity causing him to finally confront those emotions he was hell-bent on running away from. Maybe he was finally ready to say sorry for the shit he’d put me through back when we were actually together.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t finding out anytime soon. He’d stay quiet, even when I asked him point-blank if there was something he wanted to talk about. He’d shake his head and steer the conversation back to the case, throwing around theories and asking me questions I didn’t have any answers to. I allowed the redirection. If Eric didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart with me, then I’d just have to keep my walls up.