Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I already miss him when he slides out of me, but unless he tells me to drop the act, I’ll stick with it. This time, he pulls up my pajama pants and covers me with a blanket with so much tenderness I’m dying to reciprocate it, to take care of him, to kiss him until we both fall asleep.
The mattress shifts under his weight, and then he’s gone. I’d say as if he was never there, but my ass would beg to differ. I don’t hear any steps, so I hope he’s gone under my bed. He knows how to be silent though. He could have as well snuck out and I’d be none the wiser.
But is he there? Is he… still here?
I shouldn’t be upset over him leaving my bed. After all, he told me from the start he doesn’t deserve to sleep in one, but despite the blanket and the heat between my buttocks, I’m cold, missing his weight and warmth, which moments ago seemed so obvious and expected.
The room’s quiet, as if I’ve dreamt it all, but as the tightness in my chest grows, I rest my wrist on the edge of the mattress, ultimately letting my hand hang off the bed.
If he is there… will he reach out?
I wait for what feels like forever, and I’m dozing off with a sense of disappointment when warm lips press against my pinkie in the gentlest kiss. My insides flutter as if my body became the host of a large family of butterflies.
I shift closer to the edge of the bed, so my whole arm can drop and my hand hits the floor. Moments later, Creep’s fingers entwine with mine, and I’ve not felt this safe in years.
It’s perfect.
Chapter 21
Angel
My tongue rolls up the ice cream, then swirls around the top before I suck the very tip of my dessert. So maybe it is a bit provocative of me, especially as I’m staring straight at Creep when I eat, but hey, sue me. I want to taste his cock, and whatever can inspire him to be into that is a win for me.
The shop we’re at has that old-timey Americana type of branding, with a checkerboard of tiles on the floor, pink seats, and staff dressed in pastel shades. It’s on the expensive side, as far as ice cream goes, but Creep insisted on treating me as soon as he saw my gaze drift toward Dreamy’s Desserts.
I don’t think he’s aware that his own ice cream is drizzling down the side of his hand. I’d lick it if that wasn’t too improper for this setting. There are kids in here after all.
We came here on his motorcycle, and riding it without being gagged and zip tied was a lot of fun. Domino never took me for a ride. Not that I’d want to go with him, but it’s a thrill to be with a guy who wants to show me off. On the bike, I’m allowed to hug him as much as I want since there’s a practical reason for it.
I struggle with being unable to touch Creep however and whenever I want, even though I do understand he needs to adjust. Baby steps. He’s already more comfortable with physical contact than when we first met, and in the morning, he wasn’t averse to showering with me. It’s a delicate process, but I’m impressed he’s making the effort for me and challenging himself. I don’t spare him the praise for it either.
And his body? Fuuuck. I wish he will let me touch him more, because he is to die for. Yes, he is that fit. Lean but muscular, with strong biceps, and delectable thighs. He’s all sharp edges but has the agility of a predator. I struggle looking at his poor, abused back though. Not because it’s off-putting, but because I feel like crying when I see the proof of the pain he’s endured. I want to soothe, and kiss, and stroke… And yet it has to wait. All I can do is coax him like he’s a baby wild cat, and I’m a bunch of feathers on a string.
“You’re staring,” I say innocently and wink at him, letting my foot poke his calf.
I barely know Creep, but being around him makes my chest feel as if it’s filled with gold dust. I was worried he might be gone once I woke up, but he was there, curled up under the blanket I’d left for him, his cheek pressed to the pillow, and sleeping like a baby. So I pretended to be asleep too, only moving once I heard the quietest of inhales, then waited for him to emerge from under the bed, his dark eyes seeking mine.
And now we’re in a cafe, eating ice cream, as if we met at the library.