Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
He turns off the water and uses the towel to dry off the shaft. Then he closes the distance between us. “A really good memory.”
The collar of my flannel chafes my neck. I buttoned it up on the way home, so much colder on the back of the bike than it had been earlier. My heart races. I eye the bottle of tequila Farrow gave me on the sink. I knew I should’ve drunk some.
Hunter touches his forehead to mine, slipping a finger inside my collar. “Take it off,” he whispers.
“When you sound like you.”
Hunter used to be gentle. Kind.
Tender.
I look at him, his eyes cast downward as he tugs my collar, finally pulling and pulling, harder and harder, until…
The top button flies off, bouncing against the shower curtain, onto the floor.
I growl under my breath, grabbing his arm with both hands before he can yank off another one. In one quick movement, though, he releases my collar, cradles my head with one hand and wraps his other arm around my waist. He buries his face in my neck.
And he just stays there.
I freeze, our chests in sync as we breathe hard, my eyelids growing heavy at the rush of his hot breath against my skin. “Dylan…” he murmurs.
I close my eyes, sinking into his embrace. Vulnerable. Hunter used to be vulnerable too. It feels like him now.
Keeping his mouth on my neck, he pulls at my shirt, and I don’t even think as I help him, holding the other side, so the buttons pop off easily, one after the other.
He hovers his mouth over mine, both of us unable to stand still as we graze our lips over each other’s cheeks and jaws, about to kiss but don’t.
“Still think we can play together?” he pants.
I press my body into his, but keep my hands on the wall behind me as I whisper, “I want to be your favorite toy.”
I drop my shirt to the floor and unbutton my shorts, slipping my hand all the way inside. Leaning back on the wall, I move my fingers, feeling the warmth and wetness as I rub my clit.
He stares at my hand. “Slower.”
I move in small circles, around and around, feeling the hard nub underneath as I grow wetter.
“Please, slower,” he breathes out, my body on fire under my skin and my clothes chafing every inch.
He slides my shorts down with my underwear, and I pause, about to cover myself.
My stomach flips, and I don’t know what I’m ready for, but I know Hunter will stop if I want him to. I can stop anytime.
Holding my eyes, he lifts my shirt over my head, and I remove my hand for just a moment. He plants his forearm on the wall next to my head as I go back to rocking my clit back and forth. I hook my other hand over his bicep, holding on as tingles fill my stomach and harden my nipples.
A light layer of sweat shines on his neck, and I smile a little, knowing he likes it.
He reaches behind him and takes my vibrator, pressing a button. It buzzes to life, and goosebumps climb my arms with the realization. He charged it.
He takes my hand off my body and places the vibrating toy in my palm. Flutters crawl up my arm as I hold it.
“Do it,” he tells me softly. “Play.”
Looking down, I guide the vibrator between my legs, press it to my clit and feel a single, hard jerk rock through my entire body.
I gasp and then smile. He starts to, as well. I touch it to myself again, massaging my clit. I moan and close my eyes.
“Dylan,” he whispers, holding my face as I start to roll my hips.
“Ah,” I moan. I open my mouth, coaxing his. I want to feel his tongue.
I want to feel his body. I want him to touch me. I want…
I push down my shorts and underwear all the way, moving to the sink. I place the vibrator on the towel, just over the edge, and look at him over my shoulder.
“Behind me. Come here.”
His eyebrows are pinched, desperate, and he doesn’t ask why. He moves in, taking my hips, and I lift my right leg, setting my knee on the counter. Leaning on my hands, I rub my clit over the toy, staring at him through the mirror in front of us. He wraps a hand around the front of my throat, burying his mouth in my neck and watching my body move in our reflection. Waving my hips in and out, I feel the orgasm already starting to build. I slam the mirror with one hand, going faster and harder and grinding myself over the vibrator.
“Dylan, my God,” he growls, gripping the back of my hair. “God, don’t stop.”
I tip my head back, onto his shoulder. “I want to watch you too.”