Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
It isn’t anything I haven’t thought myself, but hearing it in that deep rough voice of his makes me feel restless. Jittery. Needy. When he grinds his hips against me again, I yank at the hem of his shirt.
“So good,” I moan. “And not that I’m not enjoying this, because wow, but we’re too old for dry humping. In a connected matter, you’re wearing too many clothes.”
“You’re acting impatient after that torture show you just put me through?” He drags his shirt off in one smooth motion before removing mine so forcefully I bounce back against the pillows with a laugh. “I’ve been watching you shudder and moan for over an hour. Licking spoons and sucking on your fingers like a tease. I’ve never been jealous of my food before. I think it’s a new low for me.”
I shiver when our bare chests come together. “I wasn’t teasing you. I was hungry.”
“Are you still hungry now?” He does some magical grind and roll move with his hips and, maybe we’re not too old for this after all, because I don’t remember this being so much of a turn-on.
“Starving,” I tell him honestly. “I’m not usually like this, not that you’ll believe me. Both times we’ve met, I’ve been all over you.”
“I like you all over me,” he growls.
Best answer ever.
“I’m not saying I’m a prude.” My nails dig into his shoulders, forcing him closer. “I have sex all the time.” What? “Okay, not all the time. Just the normal number of times for a healthy gay man with a community-centric career and the school board breathing down his neck.” Stop talking. “I’ll stop talking now.”
He stares at me a moment before lowering his head to kiss his way down my neck. “I don’t know if you’re trying to piss me off or make me laugh. How do you do that?”
I tilt my head back, every touch of his mouth on my skin an explosion of sensation. “How do I do what? Ruin the mood with random inappropriate verbal explosions? I don’t know. Maybe we could pretend I didn’t say anything. Or we could forget any of this ever happened and eat more cookies instead.”
“They’re macarons,” he corrects against my jaw. “And that’s not happening. Please tell me this conversation is leading somewhere that doesn’t end with you talking about other men while I’m touching you.”
“It is. I’m trying to say this feels different,” I tell him, needing him to understand. “And since I met you, different is the only thing I’ve wanted.”
He raises his head, staring at me with those dark, unfathomable eyes until I start to squirm. Did I say too much? I’m not good at this. Not used to this desire to talk or know what my partner is thinking. Speed, skill and subtlety are usually my three main objectives in this situation.
But like I said, I’ve never been in this situation before. With someone I…like. “What are you thinking, Michael?”
“That I’ve wanted this too,” he confesses softly, his big palms skimming along my ribcage, making my dick jerk in reaction. “And that I highly doubt there’s anything you could say that would ruin this moment for me. Unless you tell me to stop before I make you come.”
“Well, that’s a relief, since stopping is the last thing I’d ask you for.” Does that reedy, panting voice really belong to me? “Get naked, please. Or go faster, maybe.”
“So you’re bossy in bed, then?”
Not usually. “I’m an educator and a control freak. I can’t shut that shit down.”
He exhales a laugh before pumping against me, quick and hard and fuck, I’m losing my mind. Then the pressure is gone and his fingers curl into the loose waistband of my borrowed sweatpants to drag them down slowly. Too slowly.
“Michael.”
He pauses when the material is bunched around my thighs, and I’m about to start whining…until I see the expression on his face. He stares at the hard shaft that’s aching and heavy against my stomach, and I can’t decide if the look he’s giving it makes me want to preen or cover myself.
You’ve never been shy.
That’s an understatement. And a good reminder. I grip my erection and give it a nice, thorough stroke while he watches, liking the sense of control it gives me. “Why are you staring, Michael? You’ve already seen me a few times today, haven’t you? You probably even touched it once. Just by accident.”
He licks his lips and his cheeks flush. “I would never take advantage like that. I covered you up before undressing you.”
I can’t hide the unexpected gratitude at his show of respect. I go for a thick, and admittedly very bad, southern drawl. “An actual gentleman rancher. I do declare. As I live and breathe.”
“Funny,” he says, still staring.
I pump the cock in my hand and arch my hips off the bed. “Should I start calling you Saint Michael? Because I can tell you now, if our roles were reversed, I would have been peeping like a motherfucker. I’d want to make sure I hadn’t just imagined that gorgeous monster I had in my mouth in December. Remember that? The time I was kneeling between your thighs and you were begging me to come home with you?”