Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I’m starting to get desperate. I’m even willing to forgo public sex if it means I can have actual sex with a person again. I have my kinks, my likes and dislikes, but I don’t need to have them all to get off with someone. What I do need is the high from having someone worship me and make it feel like we could be more than physical. It never is, but in that brief moment where I have hands or a mouth or a dick on me, in me, against me, I let myself believe it’s possible.
“Good luck for tomorrow, then,” Lane says. “I’m going to go to sleep.”
I should get some sleep too, but as I strip down to my underwear and get into bed, all I can think about is reaching between my legs and fingering my still-slick hole but being as quiet as possible for once. Would Lane know what I was doing? He’s put his headphones back on, so he wouldn’t be able to hear it. Would he be able to see it?
My orgasm might have given me small relief, but the more I think about getting off again, my mind drifts to what would happen if Lane caught me. Would he be tempted to join me, or would he storm out of here and tell team management that I’m some lost cause and a sex deviant?
It’s not worth the risk. I need to turn around the public’s image of me—and Lane’s image of me—and I need to prove that sex isn’t all I think about. So instead of doing the naughty thing I really want to be doing, I whine instead.
“I can’t sleep.”
Lane doesn’t stir.
I throw my legs off the side of the bed and stand over him. He can’t be asleep already. I flick his nose.
His eyes fly open, and he sits up, headbutting my abs in the process. Even though it feels like he’s punched me, my cock still gets excited.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he says and takes his headphones off.
“I was trying to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear me.”
He glances around the room. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Lane lies back and rubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. Right where I want to rub my cheek and neck all over him like a cat. I love beard rash. Weird, maybe, because most people hate the sting and then the red skin it leaves, but for me, it’s part of the whole exhibitionist kink. Knowing people look at me and can guess what I’ve been doing is hot.
“You’ve been trying for five minutes. Just close your eyes.” Now his hand runs over his dark hair. “Fucking hell, it sounds like I’m talking to a three-year-old.”
“Maybe listening to you drone on and on and on will help me.” I sit on the side of my bed. “Ooh, I have an idea. I’ll ask you a question, and you can answer it in that lecturing tone of yours. You know the one that’s really easy to tune out? It’ll be like going to sleep with my very own white-noise app.”
“Oskar,” he warns. He sounds exhausted, but he wouldn’t be the first person to get tired of me.
“Ooh, no Mr. Voyjik this time? Are we friends now?”
“Well, you did call out my name while you got yourself off last night—”
“And tonight, but you couldn’t hear it because you decided to be rude. Do you go to a play or musical and then sit there with noise-canceling headphones on? It’s disrespectful to the performer.”
“First, I didn’t buy tickets to your show. Secondly—”
“No, you funded the whole damn thing by buying me my … props.”
Frustrated Lane is so cute. “I’m going to regret buying that thing.”
“I’m more interested in why you felt you had to drown out my sex noises. Why is that? Too sexually frustrated? When was the last time you got laid?”
“That’s none of—”
“Wait, I’m not tucked in yet.” I climb back under the covers. “Now, tell me a bedtime story. A sexy one about the last time you came. How hard you were, how much cum—”
“No.”
“Can I get myself off again, then? Maybe that will relax me enough to sleep.”
“Go for it. Bathroom is right there.”
“I don’t want to move for it though. I want to do it right here.”
“No.”
“Can we do anything fun?”
“Yes. Sleep.”
I grunt. “This sucks.”
“You’re like a needy child,” he grumbles. “Though, at least children don’t fucking ask about other people’s sex lives.”
“If you want to get technical, they do ask where babies come from.”
“Why do you hate me so much?” Lane asks.
“Hate? You think I hate you? Why would I be doing all this to get your attention if I hated you? Can you seriously not sense flirting when it’s happening?”
“Except you weren’t really flirting. You were taunting. There’s a difference.”