Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
She’s got her arms up now, crisscrossed over her breasts, and she’s looking down at me with a flat line of a mouth and very serious eyes. I bet all the reasons why this is a bad idea are flooding her mind right now too.
“I trust you,” I say.
Which makes her draw in a breath.
Then I stand up so I’m looking down at her now. My hands take hers by the wrists and I push them away so I can see what she’s hiding. I stare a little, noting how round and firm her breasts are, and when she doesn’t protest, I figure it’s game on from here.
I get some more soap in my hands, then cup her breasts and slide my fingertips under and around them as she watches me caress her nipples and make them rise up into tight peaks.
“You’re not gonna say anything back?” I ask.
She bites her lip, then gives a one-shoulder shrug. “What’s there to say?”
“Oh, we’ve got millions of things to say, I’m sure.”
“Why ruin it though?”
My mouth lifts up into a lopsided smile. “It wouldn’t ruin anything. But it’s fine with me if you don’t wanna talk. We’ve got nowhere else to be, so whatever we have to say to each other, it can wait.”
“It’s just… sex, Riggs.”
I bring my hands up to her neck, pushing her hair off her shoulders. “Is it?”
She nods her head. “It’s not gonna mean anything.”
I cup her face in my hands now. “Won’t it?”
“No. It won’t.”
Then I lean down and kiss her. The first thing I notice is how wet her lips are. The second thing is that she’s not opening her mouth for me.
Not yet.
I slip one hand around to the back of her neck, gripping it and drawing her closer so I can kiss her harder. I open my mouth and start nipping her lip with my teeth. She responds to this with a gasp, but it gets the job done because a moment later, our tongues are touching. I walk her backwards until she bumps into the marble wall.
We’re kissing each other now. My hands are going wild feeling all up and down her body, while hers tentatively slide down to my waist.
I take one of her hands and push it down further until her fingertips are probing my rapidly growing cock. For a moment she hesitates, and I figure she’ll pull back and refuse to follow my lead. But the moment passes and her hand opens, then closes again around my shaft.
I grit my teeth as the pleasure of having a woman touch me again stirs up feelings inside me. Mostly feelings of being cheated. Of losing all those years of my youth working underground inside an endless, dark tunnel.
But it’s like Clover can tell I’m dwelling on things that are not her, because she begins to kiss me back with more intention, making a fist around my dick as she pumps it up and down. This pushes all the things I’ve lost aside and forces me to concentrate on the present.
I study her face as my hand slips between her legs, watching with equal parts fascination and lust as she closes her eyes and lets her head fall backwards and to the side, clearly enjoying it.
“I lied,” I say.
She shakes her head a little, but doesn’t open her eyes because I haven’t stopped playing with her.
“I lied about you.”
Her words come out as a whine. “I thought the talking was for later?”
“It is. But I just need to set the record straight. You’re not a four, Clover. You’re so out of my league, it’s not even funny.”
Now she does open her eyes. Then she narrows them down. And for a moment, I think… Fuck, why couldn’t I just shut up already? I’ve ruined it. But then I realize she’s not looking at me with suspicion, it’s exasperation. “Fine,” she huffs.
“Fine what?”
“You’re a nine point seven five, OK? Collin Creed wishes he was you.”
I chuckle a little as my fingers find her little sweet spot between her legs. And just before she gasps with ecstasy, I say, “And you’re a ten. Hell, who am I kidding? Ten point two five.” Her expression changes and she smiles, her eyes wide open now. “Standing next to you, Clover, Hattie Miller comes off as a burly, towering lumberjack.”
Clover laughs out loud at this comparison, and while she’s doing that I reach around, grab her under her ass, and lift her, pressing our bodies together as I hold her against the marble wall. Immediately, her arms come up and wrap around my neck. Her cheeks are bright pink now—either from the steam or the joke—and her eyes are shining and happy.
I’m happy too. Maybe for the first time in years, actually. But as we stare at each other, reality is rushing at us from all sides and our smiles fall in the same moment.