Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
I clear my throat, fighting for steady. I’m not ready to let her go, but I also don’t want to come on too strong and scare her away. “Would you like to spend the day with me? We could take Buster out for a walk and let him run off some energy.” My voice is so gravelly I barely recognize it.
She nods but doesn’t let go. “Yeah,” she says, breathless. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
Buster, ever the opportunist, hops up and manages to plant his paws on Iris’s thigh, tongue lolling, tail helicoptering. She bends down to scoop him up, the motion dislodging her sleep shirt and giving me a flash of bare skin at her shoulder. I look away, because if I don’t, I’m going to do something reckless and neither of us is ready for that.
“I need a quick shower.” She holds the dog awkwardly in one arm and starts fussing with her hair with the other, hands fluttering like she’s not sure what to do with them now that she isn’t holding on to me. “Give me twenty minutes to get ready, and I’ll come over to your place and get you,” she tells me.
I nod, jaw so tight it hurts. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
I force myself to walk to the door, each step heavier than the last.
By the time I make it into my own apartment, my hands are still shaking. The echo of her lips is everywhere on my skin, in my bloodstream, seared into the roof of my goddamn mouth. I close the door behind me, lock it out of habit, and just stand there a second, letting the silence crowd in.
I rip my T-shirt off and head straight for the shower. The floor is freezing under my feet, a jolt that doesn’t even register against the noise in my head.
I strip the rest of the way and step under the spray, cranking the dial to Arctic. Water slams down on me, and I brace my forearm against the tile, drop my head, and let it hammer the back of my neck. It should shock me back to myself, but it doesn’t do a damn thing. My mind is stuck on repeat. The way she whimpered when I deepened the kiss. The heat of her fingers in my shirt. The feel of her melting against me like she'd never even thought about pulling away.
My cock is so goddamn hard, it hurts.
I want her. The real, desperate kind of wanting that doesn’t care how old I am or what bullshit stories I’ve been telling myself about being happy all alone.
Fuck. I brace both hands against the slick tile and squeeze my eyes shut, fighting to get a grip. The water’s so cold it should hurt, but all I feel is a full-body burn that doesn’t let up. My cock is stone-hard, throbbing, practically begging for relief. I grit my teeth.
I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke, slow at first, then rougher, chasing the ache. I can’t stop thinking about her. Iris, all soft curves and blue eyes, wild hair spilling down her shoulders when I finally get my hands in it. The way she looked up at me, lips swollen from my kiss, like I was the only thing she saw. Fuck. My grip tightens, and the next pump has my hips bucking forward, desperate for friction.
All I want is to spread her out on my sheets and taste her everywhere. I want to hear her making sweet little whimpers when she’s coming apart for me. I want to see her lose that shy smile, tipping her head back and moaning my name. Christ, I want to ruin her for anyone else.
I jerk off, fist working my cock hard and fast. Every muscle in my body is strung tight, like I’m seconds from snapping. I imagine her on her knees in front of me, blue eyes wide, that sassy mouth parted, looking at me like I’m the only man in the world. The only man who’s ever mattered.
Fuck. I want her so bad my brain just blanks out.
I stroke my cock harder as she fills my mind. I picture her naked and flushed, squirming on my bed, begging for my hands, her sweet pussy slick and desperate for me. I want to pin her wrists, spread her out, and make her come until she sobs. I want to own her, body and soul. Every fucking inch.
An orgasm tears through me, brutal and raw, and I groan her name into the steam. The world goes white around the edges. For a second, every muscle is locked as I spill over my knuckles, the tile, everywhere.
I squeeze shampoo into my palm and work it through my hair, fast, rough, almost punishing. Every motion is a distraction, a way to keep from fantasizing about her. I scrub down, rinse off, then shut off the water and stand there dripping.