Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
He slowed but never stopped moving. Not even to adjust his glasses when they slipped on his nose. But after a few moments, he bent to kiss me and whispered, “Touch yourself. I want you to come now, Noah.”
Say no more.
My orgasm tore through my body like a comet barreling toward Earth—fast and powerful. Cum spurted between us, spraying both of our stomachs in an impressive arc. I let go of my cock and pulled him to me, wrapping my arms and legs around him as I trembled through waves of aftershocks.
In my experience, this was when things got awkward.
I’d done this dance so many times, I could go through the motions blindfolded. We’d clean up, shying away from eye contact as we redressed. I’d offer water, lead him into the kitchen, then into the living area, where he’d collect the last of his belongings. Then I’d open the door and…adios.
But I could barely move. No shit. I was drenched in sweat and cum, sore and achy as fuck, but I was oh, so satisfied. I loved the weight of him. He felt better than my down comforter, I mused, grumbling when he shifted off me to remove the condom.
“I’ll get rid of that.” I bolted upright, snatched the spent rubber from him, and sprinted to the bathroom.
I returned with a towel and water, sabotaging my usual post-sex-with-new-partner routine because quite honestly, I didn’t want him to go. I mean, I did…eventually, of course. But not till I was sure we were okay. We might not have a future, but I really didn’t want this to end badly.
Thomas thanked me, wiped his stomach and cock, then dropped the towel on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. He twisted the top off the water bottle and took a healthy swig before glancing around the room.
“Your bedroom is colorful too,” he observed, lingering over the orange-and-pink paisley lampshade on the fixture on the nightstand.
“I love color. The brighter, the better.” I settled against the headboard, hugging my pillow to my chest as if suddenly modest.
Thomas nodded absently and shifted to face me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“God, no. It was…incredible,” I gushed, infusing the compliment with every ounce of sincerity I possessed.
He smiled and wow—that smile, those dimples. My heart did that skitter-flip thing again.
I loved the contradiction of his sweet blush and rough hands. I was tempted to roll sideways to see if he’d left a handprint when he smacked my ass. I hoped so. And something in his expression told me he knew exactly where my dirty mind had gone.
“Let me see.”
I obeyed, rolling onto my stomach to hide my certain blush. “How does it look?”
Thomas cleared his throat. “Amazing.”
I turned on my side and propped my head on my hand. “Thank you.”
“For spanking you?”
“Well…yes. And other things.” My grin faded when he reached for his boxer briefs. “You don’t have to go. I mean, unless you think this is going to get weird.”
“Why would it get weird?”
I circled my wrist expressively. “I’m not sure, but conversational frosting will help so that neither of us freaks out in the morning.”
He dropped his boxer briefs. “Are you going to freak out?”
“I’m not sure. Will you?”
“No, I won’t,” he replied emphatically, cocking his head curiously. “What’s conversational frosting?”
“Filler chat. It’s my occupational specialty. For example, I’ll tell you about my favorite cooking shows, and you’ll pretend to be interested. I’ll return the favor when you bring up Dr. When.”
“Dr. Who,” he corrected, lying beside me.
“Are you sure?” I teased.
“Very sure.” Thomas rested his hand on my hip under the duvet. “So…frosting. Um, what’s your favorite cooking show?”
“Top Chef followed closely by The Great British Bakeoff. My turn…what’s the worst thing in the world? Blue cheese or olives?”
“Blue cheese,” he answered in his most serious voice.
“Agreed. It’s hideous, isn’t it? How about baked beans or Spam?”
“Both are equally unsavory.”
“Right? What’s the best food in the world? I’ll give you two choices…chocolate or french fries?”
“Chocolate,” he replied immediately.
“I knew I liked you.”
We chuckled and shared a smile that made my heart somersault in my chest.
I didn’t understand how we got here, but I wasn’t going to question my luck. And I wasn’t going to push him away.
Not yet.
One week later…
I noticed that goofy smile on your mug today. And yesterday. And the day before. What’s that all about?
I propped my foot on the bumper of my SUV to tie my shoelace before replying to Easton’s text. It’s exactly what you think it’s about.
Five heart-faced emojis popped up on my screen. Good for you. Are you sharing details? Spilling tea?
Get your own professor, Eas.
Professor? Oh! I like that look for you.
Me too.
I bent into a lunge stretch and waited for Easton’s usual sign-off.
Have fun. Be careful.
I sent the eye-roll emoji he expected because that was our thing and Easton couldn’t help himself. Besides, it was nice to know there was someone looking out for me. It was tempting to spill some tea, but you know…the athlete in me was superstitious to a fault.