Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“It’s just a little after eight,” she answers and then looks at me. I rub my hand over my face.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” I toss the covers off myself as I swing one leg out and then the other.
“I put your clothes on the bench.” She points down to the bench at the end of her bed. The nightie she was wearing when I got here is beside my clothes that she folded up; jeans on the bottom, T-shirt of top of them, boxers on the top.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the boxers and slipping them on. She walks out of the room and to the kitchen. I move to the bathroom, washing my face quickly and then go back out to see she didn’t come back. I put my jeans on and then walk out of the bedroom, putting one hand in the sleeve of the shirt and then the other. As I step in, I see her in the kitchen, making herself a coffee.
She’s wearing heels now, and I have the sudden need to go and fit myself to her back and kiss her neck. “Do you want a coffee?” she asks me over her shoulder when she hears me step into the room.
“Do you have time for me to have a coffee?” I ask her. She turns around to face me, her back leaned against the counter. She oozes independence like no one else I’ve ever met before. Confidence and boldness too.
“Not really,” she makes a joke and hides it with the cup of coffee in front of her mouth, “but you’re still here so…”
I chuckle and look down at the floor, uneasy about how easy it is with her. How she’s not asking for more than what we’re both giving to each other. “So then I’ll have a coffee.”
“Great,” she states in the most sarcastic tone I’ve ever heard in my life. “I’m assuming you don’t take sugar…” She walks over to the side and takes a mug down; my eyes go directly to her ass in those pants. “And light milk?”
“It’s like you know me.”
“No,” she quickly answers. “I know Kirby, and you and him have the same diet, kind of, so it was an easy guess.”
She presses the button on the coffee maker before going to the fridge, grabbing the milk, leaving the door of the fridge open and pouring a bit in the cup and then replacing it. The machine stops and she grabs the cup, putting it on the counter. “There. Do you want it in a to-go cup?”
I walk around to stand beside her, grabbing the cup and putting it to my lips. “Thank you.” I take a sip. “If I take a to-go cup,” I lean against the counter, “then I’ll have to return it.”
“What happened with not coming back for a third?” She folds her arms under her tits.
“I guess I need to apologize for that also.”
“I don’t know, considering every single time we’ve had a conversation you’ve said something to get your mouth in trouble.”
“I mean…” I shrug,
“First time I met you…” I hold up my hand, getting her to stop talking and, of course, she doesn’t. “you told me you didn’t want me to suck your dick.”
“I totally take that back, by the way.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. “One thousand percent am I okay with you sucking my dick,” I take another sip of the coffee, “at any time. You want to drop to your knees right now,” I put the cup down, “I won’t say no.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she declares, putting her cup in the sink and then grabbing my cup.
“I’m not done with that,” I say, and she pours out the rest.
“Now you are.” She puts the empty cup in the sink. “Time to go.”
She doesn’t touch me, nor does she make an effort to. I walk to her, and she takes a step back. “No.” She shakes her head. “My hair is done and you’ll probably mess it up.”
I try not to let the rejection get to me. “So no.”
“What if I promise to not touch you?” I ask, putting my hands behind my back. “Then will you kiss me?”
“Is that really necessary?” she asks, and I want to say no and storm out of the house.
“Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow for a road trip, so I will for sure not be showing up at your door.”
“Oh good,” she jokes, and I lunge for her, wrapping my arm around her waist. “See,” she huffs out as she places her hand on my chest, but isn’t pushing me away, “you are going to wrinkle my shirt.” She avoids looking into my eyes.
“Kiss me.” I don’t know if I’m asking her or telling her, but when her eyes look up and I stare into hers, I bend my head and kiss her. At the taste of coffee on her lips, my cock stirs in my pants, and she pushes me away when she feels it. “See?” She points to my cock. “That’s why kissing you isn’t a good idea.”