Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
There’s no way I’m going to last long today. The water pounds on my body while I prop myself up on the green tiled wall with one hand. My other doesn’t stop stroking my length from root to fucking tip. In a perfect world, Kyra would be in here with me, naked, all her wild hair tamed by the water, and I’d be telling her exactly how to suck my cock. She’d be on her knees, nails digging into the back of my thighs as I hold the top of her head, guiding her to take me to down her throat. I imagine her cheeks hollowing, chest rising and falling, her pretty tits moving with each and every movement. Tears rolling down her cheeks from taking me so hard and deep. And as much as I’d want to come inside her pretty mouth, there’s no way she wouldn’t get hers. In between each grunt, I’d demand her to finger-fuck herself, telling her to use two. Not even three of her slender fingers would amount to the girth of my dick. It wouldn’t take her long to get close, until her body convulses, the palm of her hand working her clit while she slides in and out of her wet depths. Meanwhile, I’m trying to prolong the process, but it’s too damn hard, and after touching her smooth skin, I’m fucking done for.
“Kyra,” I growl out her name. I watch as my come splatters the wall before washing down the drain. Soon enough, it will be where it belongs—inside of every part of Kyra. I’ll say one thing: the days are numbered; I’m counting them down until I’ve got Kyra beneath me, on top of me, or taking her from behind. I hope like hell she’s fucking ready.
3. Kyra
He left so abruptly from the gym, and he never does that. If anything, it’s me cutting my walk short, running to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, and then heading to the back patio. I thought about walking or running on the beach, except I’m being paid to do a job and leaving my patient goes against every cell in my being.
The last time I was in Rhodes' bedroom, his spicy scent assaulted me. Looking at his massive king-size bed inspired a hell of a lot of time with me and my fingers. I wondered what side of the bed he slept on, what he wore to bed, and even what he looked like waking up in the morning. Sure, there’s a small insecure part of me that wondered if he ever had someone in his bed with him. Then I shut my wayward thoughts down. I’m sure he has. Rhodes is twenty years older than me, and the last thing I want to think about is him with someone else. No freaking thanks. We’re both adults and have a past. That doesn’t mean I’d want him to dredge it up. Jesus, now I’m talking like a Looney Toon. We’re not even together, except I’ve been envisioning so much of the future here with him. Which is dumb. The only relationship we have is in a working capacity.
Today isn’t much better. Our moment in the gym has me spiraling. There’s an ache between my legs, my heart is racing, and I have an overwhelming desire to slide my hand beneath my shorts to help relieve the desire Rhodes keeps building inside of me. His bed is once again in my sights, and I’m back to thinking what it would feel like to be with him between his black sheets. I glance out the sliding glass doors at the beauty of the ocean, the sun, and the sand. My room isn’t bad. It’s not Rhodes' with this view; mine is of the street. The neighborhood is starting to wake up. Some people are walking, usually with a partner or a dog. The golf carts are plentiful, which makes sense with narrow streets and alleyways here on the beachside of New Smyrna.
I don't find him in any other room in the house, and while I should leave him be, his bedroom door is open and so is the bathroom. My curiosity gets the best of me, so I turn the corner and remember the last time I stood in this very room, helping him get in and out of the shower. He’d groan and grumble, not in a demeaning way toward me. Lucky for me, Rhodes isn’t a horrible patient. He might make a comment or curse an obscenity here and there under his breath, but the second he realizes he’s not alone, he recovers quickly and acts as if nothing happened. I stay quiet, having never been in his position. The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad in case he’s struggling in the shower.