Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
A red bloom flourishes on the affected skin, and my balls tighten into my body.
If you don’t make her come soon, you’re going to be in trouble.
Down between our bodies to the crack of her ass, I run just one finger along the line and pause over the bud. She arches her back into it, and after one smooth, soft circle with my finger, she comes—hard.
Her back arches farther, and her breath explodes in a cry of ecstasy.
The sound of her pleasure is enough to unleash mine, and I growl right into the space between her shoulder blades as I spend my load inside the condom.
I would give nearly fucking anything to put myself inside her bare. Sweet Jesus, I know it would be heaven.
But there’s no way I’m putting her at that kind of risk without being absolutely fucking sure for the health and safety of both of us and making sure she’s on an alternative birth control.
But I’m not going to pause and wait to make that happen either—I’m going to keep wearing condoms as long as it fucking takes. Because this is the kind of paradise you don’t get lost in once in a while. It’s the kind that you lose yourself in completely.
Both of us pause in our positions, almost as if we have a routine of giving the moment time to leave before separating ourselves. When I’m sure she’s fully spent, I back myself off the couch and my cock out of her and stand, moving over to my desk to deal with the condom.
I pull it off quick, tie it in a knot, and toss it in the trash can, and then I use a tissue from my desk to wipe the rest of my come off my length.
I’m sensitive as hell, and just the feeling of the thin paper ghosting over me is almost enough to harden my dick all over again.
I can’t fucking believe how much I want her. How completely I would abandon any and every other responsibility on my plate if it meant I could be inside Rachel for another hour.
When I turn back around to face the woman of the hour, she already has her slinky dress back over her head and is stepping into her high heels as she smiles up at me. “So, where are we having sex tomorrow, Professor?”
I bite my lip and shake my head on a chuckle at the formality of her address. “I can think of a place…or twenty.”
She gets up from the sofa and approaches me, stopping just shy of touching her lips to mine. “Me too. How about you fuck me wherever you catch me?”
“Oh,” I hum. “A game. I like it.”
“Uh-huh,” she nods. “Only with this game, if you do your job correctly, we both win.”
“Oh really?” I scoff. “Do you think there’s a chance I won’t do my job?”
She winks. “Well, I only have two items of case study. Maybe a few more down the road, I’ll feel more confident in making a statement of fact.”
“You wound me, Ms. Rose.”
She pushes her lips to mine and reaches around to grab my ass, shaking her head. “No, Professor. I challenge you.”
Now that’s a promise I hope she keeps.
Thursday, February 14th
Rachel
Waking up today—after two straight days of sex with Ty—feels different from every other day I’ve woken up in New York. My longing for something, my search for feeling at home, it’s oddly…missing.
I’m not naïve enough to think Ty is the answer to everything I need in life, but whatever that restless thing inside me was—whatever was egging me on every time we engaged in a game of push and pull—it’s quieted.
This morning, I can hear the birds. I can hear the city. And if I listen really closely, I can hear my mom.
Don’t worry, I don’t hear her, like, actually speaking to me from the dead—that would be a creepy sexual side effect—but I can feel her presence, here, with me.
I thought the fact that today is Valentine’s Day might cause an awkward stir inside me, or maybe cause some discomfort in Ty, but with the way we left things last night, dirty texting well after midnight, I’d say we’re both feeling pretty unfazed.
I grab my bag from the counter and head downstairs to the bakery to find Lydia and Lou having their morning coffee together at one of the tables now that the initial rush of the day is over.
They look at each other the way my mom always looked at my dad, and I couldn’t be more thrilled for them that they were able to find the one person who puts them at ease.
I’ve never seen them have a real fight, and trust me, I would have if they were having them. Bakery weekends are just about the seventh portal of retail hell, and they both still do it, after this many years, with a smile on their faces.