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)
“So?” he asks, settling beside me as I try to remember how to breathe. “Still worried about missing the good t-shirts?”
I sigh, part my lips to speak, then decide talking is overrated, and sigh again.
He laughs low in his throat. “I’ll take that as a compliment to my oral skills.”
“Your oral skills should come with a warning label.” I press my face into his shoulder, still trembling a little. “Danger: May Cause Loss of Words.”
“I’ll get that printed on a shirt, and add it to my first vacation t-shirt collection.”
First vacation.
First…
The word doesn’t sound scary now. It sounds like a promise I want him to keep.
Nearly as much as I want him inside me…
“Parker?” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“I have a serious question.”
He sobers, pulling back to gaze into my face. “Yeah? Shoot.”
“Why aren’t you inside me right now?”
His breath rushes out with a grin. “I don’t fucking know.” He pushes the front of his boxer briefs down, freeing his cock as he shifts back on top of me. “That was a serious fucking oversight.” He reaches down, spreading some of my wetness on his length with a slow glide of his hand before he murmurs, “Let your legs fall open for me, baby. Nice and relaxed. Perfect. Now, reach down and open your inner lips. Let’s make it easy for you first thing this morning.”
I obey, more turned on by the frank way he tells me how to get ready to take him than is reasonable.
But fuck reasonable.
I don’t need reasonable. I just need this sweet man whispering encouraging things into my ear as his giant cock tunnels to the core of my being.
“That’s it, fuck, Mack,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “Love the way you let me in. How hot you are, how wet.” He groans as he starts to move, long, slow strokes that alter my brainwaves. “God, baby. You’re heaven. Never want to be anywhere else.”
“Never,” I agree, clinging to him as my body adjusts to his girth.
Soon, I’m able to wrap my legs around his hips and grind up into him, meeting him thrust for thrust until we both fall apart. And as he plunges deep, filling me in sharp jerks as my inner walls pulse, I send out a silent prayer to any benevolent forces that might be listening.
Please, don’t let this end badly.
Please…don’t let it end at all.
Afterwards, as we’re catching our breath, I give praise where praise is due. “You’re very good at sex. Like…very good.”
“So, I’ve been told.” But his cocky grin softens into something tender as he adds, “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, Makena DeWitt.”
The way he says my name—like it’s something special, worth savoring—summons another goofy smile to my face. It’s a woman in love smile, one I haven’t felt in a very long time.
“Come on,” I say, before I do something crazy like drop the L word ten seconds into our “more than friends” relationship. “Let’s go buy some terrible t-shirts and get tickets to watch crabs commit suicide.”
“Living the dream,” he agrees, but he’s looking at me when he says it.
And maybe we are.
Chapter
Eighteen
From the texts of Leo Parker and Baylor Nix
Nix: Hey, man, where are you? Are you okay? I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.
Parker: Because I’m on vacation, and I’m in my twenties. What’s with you and Grammercy and calling people all the time? I know you like to fuck middle-aged women, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re in your forties. Do better. Always text unless you are literally on fire and need me to come put it out.
Nix: Well, it’s not a fire, but I fucked up pretty bad. I pissed where you eat, man. Or fucked where you eat? Whatever the saying is, I did it, and I’m sorry. I really am. I hope we can still be cool.
Parker: What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? It’s barely noon.
Nix: Stone cold sober. Just can’t stop thinking about last night…
Remember how you said I could use your hot tub while you were gone?
Parker: Yeah.
Nix: Well, I went over last night. I needed to get out of the city. You had the right idea, dipping for a while. It’s so fucking depressing here. Everywhere you look, there’s someone who has lost everything. I’ve been volunteering at clean-up sites and the food pantry line, but it never feels like enough, you know?
Parker: I know. It’s rough. But what does this have to do with you pissing where I eat?
Nix: So, I get to your place. Use the key under the potted plant like you said. Strip down in your laundry room because I just came from digging shit out of somebody’s basement, and I’m not about to track flood mud through your house like an animal.
Parker: Appreciate that. Get to the pissing part.