Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Boyfriend?”
“God, no. It would be a race to see who killed the other in his sleep first.” Chance snort-laughed. “David’s my best friend, and one of the best people I know, and—what are you doing?”
I moved into his space and finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Helping you out.”
“I forget what I’m saying when you’re so close,” he whispered, threading his fingers through my hair.
“Don’t worry, I’m listening. And I bet”—I slipped his oxford shirt over his shoulders and pressed a kiss on his neck—“your friend says you’re one of the best people he knows. In fact, I bet a lot of people say that about you.”
Chance blinked, looking adorably disoriented for a beat. “That’s a nice thing to say, but you don’t really know me or—”
“I’m learning,” I purred, licking his jaw as I undid his belt and zipper.
I was on my knees before he could argue, pushing his trousers down and molding my mouth over his shaft through his cotton briefs. He moaned when I freed his cock, chanting my name as I teased his slit, and twirled my tongue around his crown. I sucked him as if my life depended on it, bobbing my head and working him over with long, hungry pulls.
Chance was so responsive. Every little touch elicited a reaction that made me feel like some kind of sex superhero. God, I could have been there all day, all night, worshiping him with my mouth and my hands. I’d spent a lot of time on my knees over the past few days…more than I had for any other lover. He had no idea the effect he had on me. The things I’d do for him. The things I wanted to try.
“Up.” Chance stopped me with a hand on my forehead and pointed at the bed.
I nodded and undressed as fast as humanly possible. He pulled me on top of him, laughing when I rolled us to the middle of the mattress. I crashed my mouth over his, devouring him with passionate kisses as I rutted against him. He squeezed my ass, dragging his fingers along my crease. I doubted it was intentional, but he set a fire inside me. I pumped my hips faster, grinding my cock alongside his, hoping he’d get the message and slip that digit a little deeper. When he did, I almost came on the spot.
I broke the kiss with a gasp and hovered over him. “Lube, condom.”
He scrambled out of bed, hurried to his suitcase, and returned with supplies. He lay flat again, stroking himself while I ripped open the foil. I bent to lick him, then rolled the condom down his length.
Chance propped himself on his elbow, his mouth open in a perfect O. “You sure? I didn’t think you…wanted me like that.”
I covered his sheathed pole with lube and reached back to finger myself. “Oh, baby. I want you every way possible. You okay with this? We don’t have to—”
“Fuck, yes.”
I straddled his torso, grimacing when I added another digit. Fuck, it burned. Chance caressed my thighs and stroked me. I could feel his erection pressing against my crack as if waiting patiently. He was thick. If two fingers hurt, I was going to be in trouble. I might not be able to do this. But just when doubt began to take over, he swiped precum from my tip and sucked his thumb clean.
That blissed-out, sexy look fucking undid me. I leaned forward to stick my tongue in his mouth as I slowly lowered myself, taking him in inch by inch.
Not gonna lie, it took a while. The stretch and burn eventually faded and pleasure flooded my veins, making me drunk with need. I rocked my hips to test my readiness, then took off, riding his cock like I was born for it.
Maybe I was. Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe we were always supposed to know each other. Maybe we were supposed to be together.
That was my last cognitive thought before he took over, flipping me flat on my back and fucking me till I saw stars.
5
CHANCE
Help! I think I’m in love.
I stared at the text, erased it, and typed it a second time, glancing up with a smile when Roman flopped onto his seat, sliding a packet of cookies my way.
“Mmm, you found more. Thank you. I had no idea these shortbread cookies came with chocolate chips too.” I set my cell on the train table and greedily tore the wrapper.
“Such an American. They’re biscuits, not cookies,” he corrected, kissing my nose affectionately.
I was mid eye roll when I noticed his gaze wander to the unsent message on my phone. Oops. Heat instantly stung my cheeks. I felt like I was standing in front of an open oven door. I stoically resisted the urge to rub my cool water bottle on my neck as I gestured toward the idyllic countryside whizzing by our London-bound train.