Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“I’ll try my hardest to avoid such a cruel temptation.”
He poured some of the white gravy onto his fried chicken, and I waited in anxious anticipation for his response. Everyone loved some good fried chicken, but I just knew I’d be pissed at myself if I went and fucked it up.
He slipped the chicken into his mouth, a bit of the gravy sliding onto his lip, which his wet tongue swept in quickly. He closed his eyes and offered a familiar moan, like the one I’d heard when he was shoving that thick cock up inside me.
“Now you’re just being mean,” I insisted.
“Mean? I wanted to show you how good it tasted.” He winked in that mischievous way I had a feeling was a genetic trait—this ability to look so very innocent and oh-so-guilty all at once.
He started to cut into his chicken again, so I grabbed mine and bit a chunk out of the meat. “That’s how you eat good fried chicken, Mitchell.”
As he swallowed, the way his Adam’s apple shifted had me fantasizing about what he looked like swallowing my load. He set his fork by his plate, grabbed a piece of fried chicken, and took another, much larger bite that way.
“See. Told you I was good.”
“Yeah, for a guy who only burned some of the chicken a little, I’d say it’s pretty good.”
The look on his face told me all I needed to know—the wink, the corners of his lips curling into his cheeks, and some other quality I couldn’t quite place, something in that expression reminding me I still didn’t know him as well as I wished I did.
After we finished dinner, I cut us each slices of the apple crisp, adding vanilla ice cream on the side.
“Here, gonna make sure you don’t fuck this up,” I told him as I cut some of the crisp and spooned some ice cream with it. “Close your eyes.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “What?”
“Come on. Like when you were a kid. Here comes the choo-choo.”
“What the hell are you on about?”
“Just close ’em.”
He glanced at the spoonful of dessert and then at me before obeying.
“I want you to enjoy it as much as possible,” I told him. “Open nice and wide.”
“This is so fucking dumb.” But he did just that.
“Here it comes,” I said, keeping the spoon in place as I licked along his bottom lip, the fragrance of beer lingering on his breath. He started to kiss back, but I pulled away.
“That’s cruel,” he said, but I could tell by his expression that he was fucking loving it.
“What’s cruel is you not being able to follow orders, Mitchell. Close ’em again.”
He rolled his eyes, and I figured he didn’t have any complaints about my surprise move, because he did just as I’d said. This time, I fed him the spoonful.
“I’ll grab you some more,” I said as he chewed and swallowed.
I scooped up another spoonful and slid it into his mouth, watching the frozen lump melt on his tongue before he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. As he sat there, his mouth hanging open, his expression full of eagerness and curiosity, his wet lips proved impossible to resist.
I lurched forward and took a kiss.
The combination of my dessert lingering on his tongue, with the beer, and the faintest hint of that fragrance so specific to Cohen, drove me fucking crazy.
He started to kiss some more, but I pulled away.
“Are you refusing my advances, O’Ralley?”
“I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let either of us fuck this up with sex.”
“I think the point of sex is to fuck something…”
“I’m serious. We gotta finish our date, or I have a feeling we’ll just be spending the rest of the night in the bedroom. Let me take this slow,” I added, and kissed him again, rubbing our bottom lips together before pulling away once more.
“As long as you promise not to edge me all night without actually being able to get off.”
“Oh, there’s gonna be edging, all right. But then there’ll be the rest too. Don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
“For a guy who didn’t fuck around with guys until me, you sure are confident about this.” He kept his eyes closed.
“There’s only one way for me to prove it to you, I guess.”
I slipped his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside before carefully moving his plate and silverware to the other side of the table. Then I got up from my seat and hooked an arm around him and the other under his legs, lifting him up. He chuckled as I said, “No peeking,” before setting him down on the table. He didn’t fight me as I unfastened his fly and pulled his pants down his legs until they reached his shoes. I didn’t rush to get the rest of his clothes on the floor with his shirt.