Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“This thing you have for me—that’s not your penis,” I gestured to the door with my hand holding the cup, “is it in there?”
His expression was unreadable. “It is.”
Was he waiting on me? When he didn’t move, I took a breath and strolled forward without an invitation.
Because we were heading into summer, it was still light outside. Some of it seeped through the high window on the far wall, but it was filtered through a set of closed blinds. It meant the long, narrow bedroom wasn’t completely dark—but it was close.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust before I could make everything out.
There was a beige couch against the wall that looked older, but it was still in decent shape, and opposite it sat a queen-sized bed with mismatched nightstands on either side. The bed was made with a silver bedspread and black pillows decorating it. Decidedly more manly and grown-up than the pale pink one in my room.
That was where he slept.
It’s where he jerked off the other night while thinking about you.
I knew this because he’d casually dropped that information in a text he’d sent me yesterday, and I had to hold in a shudder of pleasure now as I stared at the appealing, yet intimidating bed.
My gaze drifted over to the dresser situated under the window. There wasn’t much on it. A few picture frames, a jar of spare coins, and some . . . candles? That was surprising, as was how clean the room seemed to be. There weren’t dirty clothes on the floor, or crumpled receipts littering the dresser, or the useless clutter that always seemed to accumulate when you were busy.
Everything was put away, in its place.
Weren’t boys supposed to be messy?
Colin’s room had always been a disaster, and even though he lived with Madison now, it hadn’t improved that much the few times I’d been to their place. It made me wonder. Had Preston cleaned his room for me, like I’d done for him?
I’d been so engrossed in looking at everything, it wasn’t until the door clicked shut that I became aware of him. We were in his bedroom, with the door shut, and alone in his house. It was like the trifecta of sin for my parents.
Wait, scratch that. I was drinking too.
I took a sip of my rum and Coke and savored just how bad I was being, and when I set my gaze on Preston, I instantly thirsted for more.
Maybe he hadn’t put any effort into how he looked tonight, but it didn’t matter. His brown hair was swept back and his face clean-shaven, showing off his strong jawline. It made my knees weak, and my focus jumped from the couch to the bed and back again as I wondered where I should sit.
He must have sensed what I was thinking because he motioned to the couch. “Have a seat and I’ll get it.”
He flipped on the light switch, and I blinked against the sudden harsh light as he strode across the room, dropping his drink off on top of the dresser before making his way to the door in the corner. I sank down onto the couch, holding my drink, and watched as he disappeared into the walk-in closet, which wasn’t as neat and organized as the rest of the room.
This was more like what I’d expected. There was an overflowing laundry basket on the floor, giving me a hint that he’d hidden away his mess in an effort to impress me. Or at least not scare me off.
It made me smile.
He reappeared with a smallish box in his hands. It was as long as a shoebox but only half as wide, and it was wrapped in glossy black paper. My pulse quickened. “You got me a present?”
His expression was enigmatic. “It’s educational.”
He sat so close beside me on the couch that I fell into him, making my drink slosh but thankfully not spill. He took it from me and set it down on the table beside the armrest, and then he placed the box on my lap, wordlessly asking me to open it.
I hadn’t a clue what it could be, so I eagerly tore at the paper.
There was a picture on the front of the box, but I didn’t understand what I was looking at—
Oh, my god!
Blood rushed to my cheeks, heating my face to a million degrees. Even though we were alone, I still whispered it, like I was worried someone might hear. “You bought me a vibrator?”
His gaze slid over my face, drinking in my shocked reaction, and he couldn’t have looked more pleased if he’d tried. “I assume you don’t have one already.”
I shook my head and struggled to catch my breath. Holy shit. My gaze dropped to the box and the picture of the ‘massaging wand’ inside. It was black and shaped sort of like a microphone, with a rounded head and a tapered bottom that was tipped in chrome.