Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Only I'm no closer to any of those things.
Every relationship ends the same way.
You're such a great guy, Jackson. Responsible and kind. A caretaker. You'll make a great father and husband one day. For someone else.
We make perfect sense on paper, but it just doesn't work.
I don't love her, and she—
Well, that isn't true. A lot of the women say they love me. But I can never say it back. I can never find the words.
Why are we so devoted to this abstract idea anyway? Where does following our heart get us?
To pain and chaos and turmoil.
Better to do what makes sense—
But I don't. Not right now.
I don't say no, I can't. I don't do the smart thing and protect both our hearts. Sex is the one place I give into my desires. Even when they don't make sense. Even when they're dirty or twisted or wrong.
And talking my ex-girlfriend off twenty minutes before my family arrives to carpool to Las Vegas—
That's fucked up in a sexy as fuck sort of way.
She sends a picture of her white shirt, unbuttoned to show off her mesh bra. It's sheer enough I can see her nipples.
Can people see them through the shirt?
She wouldn't wear this out. Only to toy with me.
It's all pretense. Fake. But it's not as if I know anything else. It's not that I'm full of shit, exactly. More, I don't know what's beyond the facade.
This is the game we play. I'm the bossy Dom, and she's the pliant sub. We slip into our roles because they turn us on. We don't question what they say about us.
I don't—
Maybe she's different. Maybe that's why she left.
My gaze goes to the screen, and my interest in introspection dissolves. Why ask myself why this didn't work when I can hear her groans in my ears instead?
Fucked up, but with blood flowing to my dick, I don't exactly care.
I text back.
Jackson: I only have ten minutes.
Maddie: That's all I need.
She sends another picture with the shirt on the floor, her curvy body spread over the bed.
The phone vibrates with her ringtone. The Amy Winehouse song Cassie set when I told her about the breakup. A joke. Or maybe an honest attempt to connect with me emotionally. It's hard to know with my sister. She lives and breathes music. She has a passion I can only imagine.
I wish I felt that way about something. Anything.
But I don't have her artistic temperament. I'm practical to a fault. This is the only place I break the rules.
The only place I follow my needs.
I answer the call and push the song from my mind. I can't linger on the problems of the day. I need this too.
It's been too long.
I've ignored my body for too long. Martial arts practice satisfies my desire to move, to connect even, but it doesn't fill me here.
This is the only way I know how to care for myself—
Fucked up.
But I'm well into that only makes it hotter.
"What else are you wearing?" My voice drops to a demanding tone. I should warm up, tease her, but I don't have time. I don't have the patience.
Maddie responds with a picture message of her pelvis. The sheer bottoms match the bra. The nude fabric stretches over her curvy hips, showing everything I want to see. But not enough. I need more. I need everything.
"Take them off." I slip into my role with ease. This is a dance I know. The only dance I know. But I'm fucking good at it.
"Where are you?" Her voice is already breathy and desperate. She's not calling because I stroke her desire. She's calling because she's horny, and I'm here.
But then, I'm not answering because she drives me wild either. I'm answering because this is easy. Because I pick work over sex every time.
Because I'm too busy to find someone else.
Millennial burnout: phone sex edition.
The kind of joke I'd share with Cass, but, hey, now isn't the time to think of family. This is my time. Only five minutes, ten max, but it's mine.
"I'm in my bedroom." I sit on the bed next to my almost-packed suitcase. She's been here with me. Been naked in my lap, purring, begging me to kiss her, touch her, fuck her.
I want that.
If we were together, I'd draw it out as long as possible. I'd talk her off, but I'd hold off on my orgasm. Because I'd rather test my patience. I'd rather soak in the anticipation.
Because it drives her out of her fucking mind too.
But we're not together. There's no satisfaction at the end of this tease. And the risk of looking for it with my sister's best friend, Daphne—
Not smart.
She's too tall, too funny, too tempting.
Not just gorgeous. Smart too.
What can I say? I love a brainiac. That was what first drew me to Maddie. Not her light eyes, or her lush breasts, or her round hips, but her big, beautiful brain.