Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
16
A MAN WITH SPECIFIC DESIRES
Rafe
As we idle at the stoplight, I picture Gunnar exiting the limo and walking into the night, and I have my answer. It’s in the spike of my pulse and the surge of my blood, instant and electric. Everything in me rebels against him leaving.
“Don’t go.” It’s a plea. I can’t pretend otherwise. I have to rein in my constant need for control because I don’t want Gunnar to leave.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, making me work for it. The funny thing is, I do want to work for it.
I want to work for him.
“I’m positive,” I say. Gunnar holds all the cards now. He turns everything in me upside down.
“Good,” he says. “You should want me to stay. Because I really fucking want to.”
When he juts out his chin and goes all swaggery, that feels like a true part of him—the athlete ready to step up to the plate. His confidence intoxicates me.
I stay sober as best I can. “Have you ever been with a man?” I ask plainly.
“No, not until tonight. All I’d ever done before was kiss,” he says with the same forthrightness as before. Take me or leave me.
I haul in a breath—being his first is a privilege. “Tell me honestly. Did I hurt you?”
He scoffs. “No.”
I’m a man with specific desires—to fuck rough and hard. “The truth, Gunnar,” I implore him.
He coughs a bit dramatically. “I mean, I might need some throat lozenges. Your cock scraped the back of my throat.”
I laugh, loud and deep. Then I stop. “I grabbed your hair. I shoved your face on my cock. I need to know if that was okay.”
He shakes his head and scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Let me tell you something, Rafe. I’ve been nailed in the elbow with a fastball from the fiercest closer in the Major Leagues. Pummeled in the thigh with a bat. Bruised my knee sliding. I’ve had massive men try to plow me down on third base. Trust me, you fucking my throat like a beast didn’t hurt. It hurt good,” he says, ending on a sexy whisper.
I let that reassure me and relieve some of my guilt. “I don’t ever want to hurt you . . . unless you want to be hurt,” I add, slow and deliberate in my meaning.
“I don’t mind a little pain,” he whispers in a smoky voice. “I can handle it.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to talk about. I don’t ever want to push your limits.”
He tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “But Rafe, don’t you know I want you to push my limits?”
The question sends a hot spark down my body. The night we met at the club, I sensed his willingness to be taken, to be led. “Then I would like to. But I want to know something.”
“Hit me up.”
“Is there a reason you haven’t been with a man?”
“Yeah, a good one. I didn’t know I was bi until a little while ago.”
I’m always fascinated with how people discover their truths. “Were you only into girls growing up?”
“I liked girls. I still like women. And because I was involved in sports, I suppose I didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about men like that. I saw them as teammates. Plus, I was all baseball, all the time. That was all that mattered. Then I was drafted, and when I got to the majors, I finally made enough money to take care of my brother and sister. Paying for their college and stuff. But I also had a bit of breathing room where I could look around and see what I really wanted. Bodies are beautiful. I like all bodies. All people, all humans.”
“People figure out who they are on different timelines—some when they’re younger, some much later in life. But I’m really glad you figured it out before you met me,” I say with a smile, then ask for the next thing I want. More of him. “Can you spend more time with me tonight?”
He tilts his head, studying me, maybe questioning my offer. “Don’t you have a report that you have to get to somebody? You were so businesslike when I returned to the suite,” he says, as if daring me to say I’ll ditch work for him.
“I do need to send off a report,” I tease, faux pensively, as if there’s any real debate between whether I should spend the night with my laptop or this sexy man. Then I cut to the chase. “I’m not done with the conversation. There’s a lot more that I want to discuss.”
“I’d love to chitchat too, Rafe, but . . .” With a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Sometimes baseball makes me hungry, and sometimes it makes me tired. I’m going to call it a night, babes. But if you still want to have this convo tomorrow night, come by after my game ends. I’ll let you take me out for a late dinner.”