Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help it. I was dangerously drawn to Kingsley. The way Tate had built him up and then after meeting him myself…
I glanced at my phone once more.
Still thinking about my cock?
God yes. Every night. Every moment I allowed myself to get distracted from reality, I thought of him, of other men I’d watched in pornography, then back to Kingsley.
If I told him no, I’d be a liar. Was he a liar? Was he going behind Tate’s back? I found that extremely hard to believe. They’d been open before, though.
The microwave dinged, and I remained where I stood, hesitating with my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Damn Tate. Damn him for putting me in this situation. Damn him for making me care about him tremendously, damn him for the guilt, damn him for my attraction to his boyfriend. What a mess.
In the end, I felt compelled to answer. As diplomatically and honestly as I could muster, I found my words to Kingsley.
Almost as much as I worry about the damage I’ve caused to my friendship with Tate. Have you told him everything yet?
He must have.
After bringing my meal, utensils, and a bottle of water to my bedroom, I set it all down on the nightstand and started removing my clothes. So far, I only had my bed, two nightstands, and a new TV in here. My suits hung on a garment rack, and my other clothes were lined up in open boxes by the windows.
My phone vibrated again, and my heart beat a little faster.
You don’t have to worry about Tate. What you need to know is that I have his best interest at heart—and yours. How are you doing with everything that’s going on?
That didn’t provide nearly enough information.
Or did it?
Before I could text him back, he sent me another message.
If you can trust me to mend what needs to be mended, you have everything to gain. We all do. Are you interested?
Interested? In what? That was a loaded question. Hope surged forward, which I wasn’t sure was wise. What was I supposed to be interested in? I had to know. On the other hand, wasn’t the answer yes, regardless? Yes, I was interested in mending what needed to be mended. Yes, I was interested in essentially everything he offered.
I replied as quickly as my fingers allowed.
I’m interested.
Did a door just open? He’d asked me about his cock, for God’s sake.
One short message popped up.
Good.
Then another.
You forgot to answer one question.
Hell. I scanned the messages again as hope continued flooding me, along with trepidation and eagerness. Oh—I’d neglected to answer the question about how I was doing.
I’m doing quite all right, thank you. A bit uprooted, but things are getting better.
I hesitated, then figured…I wanted to ask him too.
How are you doing, if you don’t mind my asking?
His answer disarmed me and shoved me straight out into the unknown.
I’m fantastic. Watching a movie with Tate, thinking about fucking your throat.
I released a breath and got under the covers. It was bizarre how quickly he got my body going. All the memories from that night in the bar came rushing back. He’d made me feel so weak, exposed, and aroused. I wanted nothing more than to be pushed around by him.
You can do whatever you want to me.
I reached for my water bottle and watched him type.
Music to my ears. But “anything goes” is rarely true. If we were to meet up soon, how far would you be willing to go sexually? What are your limits? What’s your experience with other men as well as toys? Do you have a preference on safewords, or should we go with the three-color system?
“God.” I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and cast a glance at the nightstand. Dinner certainly forgotten. The two dildos I’d bought last weekend, not so much. They were right there in the nightstand drawer, waiting for me. Could I truly tell him what I’d started doing at night? What would he think of me?
I shook my head and placed the water next to my cooling dinner plate.
I had to be truthful. I wanted to bare myself to him—because maybe he would degrade me. Maybe he would call me out for being desperate. It wouldn’t be anything other than the truth anyway. I dreamed vividly of waking up underneath a pile of men, servicing them, giving them all the pleasure they wanted.
I cursed under my breath and adjusted myself in my underwear.
Then my fingers flew over the screen. I revealed it all, with my heart hammering furiously, and I pressed send without giving it a second thought.
I don’t know my limits. I don’t believe I’m into much physical pain, but I want to suffer and be good for you. I want to feel filthy and used. I’ve fallen asleep with a dildo in my ass every night this week, thinking about what you could do to me. I will beg, Kingsley. Beg you to fuck me, to choke me, to use me recklessly. I want to worship every inch of your body and satisfy your every need.