Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“You were never a Boy Scout.’
“Sure wasn’t.” He tugs me closer with a grin, until I’m half in his lap and feeling every inch of how happy he is to see me. “But my promises are good all the same. The dirty promises are extra good, and that’s something you don’t get with your average Boy Scout.”
“Sure isn’t,” I say, biting my lip before adding in a softer voice, “thank you. For sticking with me. For not giving up.”
“You’re welcome, F.C.” He exhales a soft laugh. “Though I do have a confession to make. F.C. doesn’t really stand for Feisty Critter.”
My brows slide up. “Oh, no?”
“No. It stands for First Crush. Because you were my first crush, and I’d be just fine if you were my last.”
The way he says it, so simply, so plainly…
Laying his heart completely on the line.
It makes me want to cry.
Or write bad poetry.
Or rent a billboard that says “This Man is Mine, Back Off” in giant letters and arrange for it to be erected on his front lawn.
Instead, I say, “Thank you,” in a small voice, because I’m still me, and my feelings still take their time creeping into the light.
I’m probably more of a feral critter than a feisty one, but I’m also falling for him, hard and fast. I just need a little more time, and I know I can be what he needs.
To prove it, I whisper, “That may be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. But if we talk about it, I might cry. And I would rather go walk the pier with you, and hold your hand, than cry.”
His smile is pure, gentle acceptance as he nods. “I’d rather do that, too.” But he doesn’t let go. Instead, his arms tighten around me. “Or, we could…”
“We could?” I prompt after a beat.
His grin takes a turn for the wicked. “Or you could stay right here for a little longer. On my lap.”
“But we might miss the good t-shirts,” I tease. “All the medium ‘I Railed my Roomie in Mobile’ will be gone.”
“Tragic.” He kisses my neck, light brushes of his lips that make me shiver. “How will we survive?”
“Damn, Parker,” I breathe, my eyes sliding closed. “Your mouth…”
“I love the way you say my name.” His teeth graze my skin as his fingers trail lower, opening the robe. “Especially when you’re getting turned on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, even as I tilt my head to give him better access. “I’m not turned on. I’m very focused on the day ahead.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His hand finds the belt, tugging it loose, making my pulse spike as the terry cloth falls open. “There we go. Your tits are out, and your nipples are already hard for me. Hmm…and no panties. Much better.”
The cool air hits my bare skin, making me hyperaware of everywhere he’s not touching me.
Yet.
“But the crabs,” I murmur, giving him an opening I know he won’t let go to waste.
He eases me onto my back, looming over me with a bulge in his boxer briefs that makes my pussy clench. “I’ve got your crabs right here, baby.”
I giggle. “I knew you’d take the bait and run with it.” I grin up at him, spreading my legs as he settles between them.
“Every time,” he promises as he reaches for the fruit plate, selecting a perfect strawberry. “Now, don’t move.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you…oh.”
He drags the berry down the center of my chest—the cool fruit making me shiver as it traces between my breasts, over my belly, circling my navel before continuing south.
“I’m conducting an experiment,” he says seriously. “Very scientific.”
“Oh yeah?” My voice cracks as the strawberry finds my hip bone. “What’s your hypothesis?”
“That you’ll taste even better with fruit.” He follows the berry’s path with his mouth, tongue hot where the strawberry was cold. “Initial results are promising.”
I’m already squirming, need building fast. There’s something about the focused way he touches me, like I’m something precious, worth savoring, that undoes me completely.
“Spread your legs wider, F.C.,” he murmurs against my stomach. “Show me that slick little cunt I love.”
I obey without thinking, past shame or hesitation.
His approving hum vibrates through me. “Good girl.” The words shouldn’t hit as hard as they do. Oh, but they do… “Now let me take care of you.”
And he does.
With his mouth and fingers and that devastating combination of reverence and filth that turns me to a quivering puddle of lust every single time. He takes me apart methodically, patiently, like he’s got all day to catalog exactly what makes me tremble.
By the time he finally lets me come, I’m a babbling mess, and pretty sure I’ve promised him my firstborn despite neither of us wanting kids.
He kisses his way back up my body, looking pleased with himself.