Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I make a mental note to strip the bed and start a load of laundry, anxious to get his DNA off my bedding.
I love sex.
The thought of it with someone I care about actually makes my mouth water and my boobs sensitive—is that weird?
But getting intimate with a guy I barely know?
I don’t know how to feel about it.
I don’t usually do casual sex—and yes, yes, I know—his penis wasn’t inside my vagina. But it was still intimate and maybe even more so? We kissed.
His tongue was in my mouth!
His fingers were…
I whip the batter harder, furiously, causing a good amount to spill out of the bowl and onto the floor.
Better the floor than my shirt.
I have no way of knowing if Duke is still lounging in my bed, but I have no plans to march up there to find out.
The griddle is heated, so I spoon on some liquid pancake, watching as it bubbles to life. It’s a buttery pan and gonna be so delicious. I add pecans, then take a spoon full of butter once the pancakes brown and run that along the edge, watching as it sizzles to life.
Flaky, buttery pecan pancakes.
My favorites.
Not that I have an appetite; my stomach is in knots. But I needed something to do with this nervous energy—it’s not as if I was going to take a jog around the block or something!
I don’t hear Duke enter the kitchen so much as I feel his presence.
He stands behind me for a few quiet seconds before I realize I’m standing in front of the coffee pot, and he’s waiting patiently with a mug in his hand.
Oh God.
I’m a mess.
A hormonal, confused mess.
This doesn’t have to be weird! We are two grown consenting adults, and if we want to get each other off, SO BE IT! It’s not a crime to touch a man’s dick you’re not in love with or committed to.
Or dating.
Lord.
I have a date tonight with Brian.
Please let me be sexually attracted to him as I am to Duke so we can start dating and I can get laid, I pray. Please let me be sexually attracted to him as I am to Duke…
Guh.
I feel like a fool, body still warm from snuggling with Duke—if one could classify it as snuggling.
Spooning?
Even that’s a stretch since the man’s dick was in my ass crack.
And Lord, did it ever feel good.
I step aside so he can fill his mug, sneaking a sniff at his skin.
He’s put a shirt on to cover his torso, but even that doesn’t hide the sinewy muscles and firm backside.
I could have come from that dick in my crack, damned if I couldn’t have.
Masturbating is fine, but dicks are another thing entirely…
Dicks inside me.
Dicks near my crack.
Yes, please.
I’m about to lick the pancake batter whisk when I catch Duke watching me above the rim of his coffee mug, brows raised.
“What?” I turn back toward the griddle so I don’t have to look at him looking at me, knowing my cheeks are probably bright pink.
“You look like you’re thinkin’ ’bout somethin’ dirty.” He says it with a low chuckle as if he knows what I’m thinking, which somehow makes it worse.
“Just goes to show what you know.” I flip the pancakes; they’re a beautiful golden brown and topped with now toasted pecans.
“Do I get to eat some, or are you makin’ those for your friend Anna?”
That makes me smile, the cocky shit.
“You can have some if you’re hungry.”
Duke yawns, stretching, still in his boxers. When I glance behind me, I can’t stop my eyes from checking out his thick thighs. They’re flexing as he moves, hard as rocks.
Hard as cock.
Ha!
Dang, I’m funny when I want to be.
I hang around children way too often; my humor is wasted because I have to be professional at all times unless I’m being silly.
“Big date tonight.”
I nod. “Yup. Big date.”
“Where’s it at?”
Thinking nothing of it, I supply him with the information. “Just a bar in the city.”
“Why you drivin’ to the city? Shouldn’t he come to the suburbs?”
“Shouldn’t you mind your business?”
He is so annoying!
Duke shrugs. “Just sayin’.” Pauses. “Little advice, maybe you should make him work at it a little harder. He sounds like one of them fuck boys who expect to sit there while the ladies all fight for him.”
“I’m sure he’s past the stage of being a fuck boy,” I declare. “Besides, I told you this a million times—I know Brian. We went to high school together.”
“Ah. So he couldn’t have turned into a douche. Got it.”
Waving the spatula in the air, I turn toward him. “Okay, smart-ass, tell me this. Are you a bigger douche than you were in high school, or were you douchier back then?”
Did that question even make sense?
“Are you askin’ me if I think I’m a douche?”