Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Then I'm there, groaning his name as I come, my entire body wracked with bliss.
The entire world, a place of pure, white bliss.
He works me through my orgasm, then he presses his lips to my thigh. Only he doesn't move on. He gives me a moment to catch my breath then he brings his mouth to me and he drives me to the edge again.
I come hard and fast. It's too much, too painful, but it's not enough either.
I need more.
I need him inside me.
"I'm ready," I tug at his hair.
He kisses his way up my body and reaches for something on his dresser. The condom.
"No. I'm ready," I say. "If you are."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. If you're not—"
"I am," he says.
"Then please."
He nods and undoes his jeans.
I push them off his hips then wrap my hand around his cock. There's a visceral, physical pleasure to the sensation, but there's more too.
A desire to feel every part of him.
To connect without anything between us.
He kisses me as he does away with his jeans. It's a little strange, tasting him on my lips, but there's something sexy about that too. The full circle of pleasure.
He brings his hands to my hips and holds me in place.
I wrap my legs around his waist.
His tip brushes my sex. His skin against mine. Nothing in the way.
He teases me again.
Again.
Inch by inch, he slides inside me.
All of him against all of me.
I'm wet and ready. My body stretches to take him easily. And without the layer of lubricated latex—
He's so much closer.
The sheer intimacy of it overwhelms me.
The need.
The trust.
The satisfaction.
Maybe I can't share my past, but I can share this. Fuck, how I want to share this.
I wrap my arms around him.
He pulls back and sinks into me again. Slowly, patiently, like he's savoring every perfect inch.
I rake my nails against his back.
Again.
I groan against his lips.
Again.
I pull him closer with my thighs.
His body feels so good against mine. The weight of it. The warmth.
And feeling of him driving into me again and again—
This is a whole other tier of bliss.
This is everything.
I rock my hips to meet him.
We move in time together, our bodies coming closer and closer, the two of us tangled as one until he's close.
He starts moving faster, harder. His breath speeds. His thighs shake.
Then he's there, groaning against my neck, pulsing inside me as he comes.
It's more visceral.
It's way fucking hotter.
The feel of his orgasm pulls me toward the edge. But I'm not quite there. I dig my nails into his back, savoring the sounds of his bliss.
He pumps through his orgasm, then he untangles our bodies, he turns me onto my side, and he positions himself behind.
He slips his hand between my legs. "Can you take more?"
"Please."
And he rubs me exactly how I need him.
I come quickly, tugging at the sheets, groaning his name as the tension in my sex releases.
When I'm finished, I move his hand to my waist and I dissolve in his arms.
This feels good.
Way too good.
But, right now, I don't care.
I don't care about anything but feeling his body against mine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
IMOGEN
We lie there for a long time. Eventually, I rise, shower, change into one of Patrick's shirts and a pair of his boxers.
I didn't plan on staying the night.
I didn't plan on screwing him.
I didn't plan beyond I'm ending things. And now I'm here and I'm continuing things and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
Just like when I tried to end everything. I had no idea what to do when I woke up. All of a sudden, I had this huge life I didn't know how to handle.
I didn't regret my attempt. It was the only option I saw.
Maybe my faith in systems is too strong, but that was how I saw it. Of all my available choices, there was only one guaranteed to end my pain.
With treatment, I realized there were other options. They weren't guarantees, but they didn't come with the same opportunity cost.
I really sound like an economist now. Life as opportunity cost. But that's why I love economics. Everything makes sense when it's broken into opportunity costs, profits, losses.
Add the psychology of behavioral economics and all of a sudden, people actually make sense.
But how does that knowledge help me now?
I'm here and I have this huge connection I don't know how to handle.
There's some dark humor here, but I'm too tired to find the pieces. The start of an entry forms in my head as Patrick showers.
Turns out I'm not great at ending things.
Intentions, sure?
But the results speak for themselves.
There's too much swirling in my head. I need to write. But I don't want to dig through it yet. I want to stay here, in the comfortable space of his room.
Because I like him.
Because I like fucking him.
Because he understands. In some strange way, he understands.