Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I’d ignored an earlier message from Jonesie giving me the same info and basically begging me to be there. I pulled up his text as I glanced at the volleyball sailing over the net and typed a quick reply.
I can’t wait.
The sarcasm would probably be wasted on him, but Jonesie was always going to see what he wanted. I was about to slip my phone into my jacket pocket when a flurry of hearts lit the screen. What the fuck?
Nicole’s message thread popped up. She must have added to her text just as I thought I was replying to Jonesie.
The event will run late. You can spend the night, she’d written.
And my reply…I can’t wait.
Fuck.
I studied the message and tried to think of a nice way to say “Just kidding,” or “That was a mistake.” But the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game and suddenly clarifying my intentions didn’t seem important. I didn’t owe Nicole or Jonesie or anyone else an explanation. It wasn’t their business.
I glanced up at the stranger recording me across the way and froze at the sickening realization that I’d let them in. I was completely exposed, like a bug under a microscope or a caged animal. People were waiting for me to reveal myself. They wanted to be assured that I hadn’t changed and if I had, they wanted to know how and why. They wanted to know what my choices said about them. Maybe we all needed validation, justification, or a cause to stand behind, a reason to love or a reason to hate.
But this was mine. No one else’s.
I licked my lips nervously and searched for Mitch. I had to get out of here. Being with him was all that mattered.
We were all over each other when we walked into my place that night. Derek was at a tournament, and I didn’t want to pass up spreading out in a bigger accommodation, even if it was just for a few hours. I waited for Mitch to park his car and join me on the porch before closing the door, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and his shirt over his head. We stumbled down the hallway, tearing clothes off with our mouths fused and our hands everywhere. I couldn’t be bothered to fully remove my clothes. Getting inside him was the main objective. The rest would happen in good time.
I shoved my jeans around my knees and held his hips, thrusting my bare cock against his crack while he unwrapped a condom. Mitch turned around and fell to his knees to suck me until I yanked at his hair and pumped my hips in a telltale rhythm that meant I wasn’t going to last. Then he slipped the latex on me, crawled to the middle of my bed, and swayed his ass from side to side. He sucked in a sharp breath when I entered him. I went as still as possible, massaging his sides before slowly making my way inside my lover.
Mitch groaned and pushed back insistently. “Harder. Do it harder. And say that thing you say sometimes.”
I drove into him and flattened myself over his smaller body. “What do I say?”
“My hole. Tell me what you want to do to me. Fuck me.”
My mouth went dry. Holy shit. I slipped my hand underneath him, stroking him while I licked his ear and whispered a litany of naughty things I wanted to do to him while I thrust my hips, driving into him as he clutched at the sheets with white knuckles. I rained kisses on his nape and shoulders, jacking his cock in a frenzy. I wanted release; at the same time, I never wanted this to end. And when my orgasm hit, I came so hard I couldn’t stop shaking until Mitch fell apart a moment later.
We cleaned up, redressed, and made our way to the kitchen. I paused with my hand on the refrigerator door and looked over at Mitch. His sex-mussed hair and wrinkled uniform shirt did things to me. Or maybe it was his lopsided smile. God, I had it bad for him. This was what mattered. Us. No one else was welcome here.
“Want something to eat?”
“No, thanks. Is Derek coming home?”
“I don’t know. He might be with Gabe.”
“So did he finally tell you?”
I grabbed a container of leftover pasta and nodded. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“Chelsea.”
“Right.” I pulled a fork from the drawer and leaned against the counter. “He was having a bad day and…it all came out. Actually, I had to prod him a bit, but it turns out my roommate has a boyfriend.”
“Did you tell him about me?” he asked with faux nonchalance.
“No. It wasn’t really a good time.” And I wasn’t ready. I kept that part to myself and shoveled in a bite of spaghetti to keep myself from saying it aloud.