Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I would rather die than … have him stop. And I let him know as much by chanting, “Jesus … god … please don’t … stop. Don’t … ever … stop.”
He groans when I yank his hair, urging him to keep sucking and licking my breasts. My bare foot slips off the edge of the vanity, and I dig my heel into his taut ass like a jockey finding their grip in a stirrup. His muscles contract and release at a quickening pace.
I need the release, but that means it will be over.
“Don’t stop …” A drunken panic hijacks my words to the point that I barely recognize them as my own. It’s not even a plea. I’m flat-out begging him not to stop.
How can something so senseless feel like the best decision I’ve made since John died? Why does absolutely nothing about this feel wrong?
Jack’s hand smacks against the mirror next to my head as he moves faster and harder. I hug him, fingernails sinking into his back when I orgasm. My teeth claim his shoulder. I’m unsure if his low grunt is from his release or my assault on his flesh.
And then we’re idle, completely still, save for the rise and fall of our chests and labored breaths marking time.
When he starts to pull away, I slide my arms around his neck and hug him, silently asking him just to give me a second.
A second to catch my breath.
A second to form a coherent thought.
A second to wipe a tear from my eye before he sees it.
He has no idea how much I’ve needed his touch. I needed it before I consciously knew it was his touch I needed. Finding something or someone you weren’t looking for is quite possibly the greatest gift in life. This somehow simultaneously changes nothing and everything.
Jack ghosts his fingertips down my legs while his nose traces a line from my shoulder to my jaw.
“Is everything okay up there?” Eloise calls from downstairs.
We share soft chuckles. Jack eases out of me and pulls up his jeans. When my feet reach the floor, he’s pieced back together and out the door.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, his voice fading while he descends the stairs.
It takes me a few minutes to freshen up. And it takes another minute or two to gather my composure while I stand at the top of the stairs. Jack shares his tips for the perfectly seasoned steak, and Eloise voices her frustrations over her late husband’s refusal to use a grill because he believed charring meat created carcinogens.
I focus on each breath, willing my heart to slow its beat. But every time I think of Jack touching me, kissing me, moving inside me, I lose my breath. Heat fills my cheeks. And my knees begin to buckle.
Then I think about how long it’s been since someone made me feel like this. And the answer is never.
“You’ve got this.” I give myself a quick pep talk on the way down the stairs.
“It’s warm up there. Isn’t it?” Eloise smiles, taking a seat at the table.
“It’s uh …” I shrug, eyeing the food, the beverages, and Eloise’s light blue plates. I look at everything except the other people in the room.
“Your face is red. It’s a hot day, and heat rises,” she says.
I risk a glance at her. “So hot.”
She knows.
I know she knows.
We share a smirk.
Jack cuts his steak and chews it without regard for our subtle exchange.
“Smells delicious. You’re a gifted grill master.” I pick up my knife and fork, waiting for Jack to look at me.
His lips twitch while he slowly chews.
“I think Jack is probably gifted at many things.” Eloise isn’t going to let this slide. The elephant’s not in the corner of the room; it’s sitting on the table, but no one wants to acknowledge it directly.
He clears his throat, blotting his mouth with his napkin. “You’re very kind.”
“She’s right.” I stab a potato and bring it to my lips. “I think you’ve been holding out on us. A man of many hidden talents.” I don’t know if Jack is someone who blushes, but I’m going to give it my best effort. “You can fix toilets, play the piano, chop wood, mow the lawn, box, grill the perfect steak.” I wet my lips and smile before biting into the potato. “Very talented with your hands,” I mumble over the food in my mouth.
And there it is … a pink hue spreads along his face. It might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Eloise’s doorbell rings. She sighs. “Who’s selling what?”
When she heads to the front door, I set my fork on my plate and wipe my mouth. “Those were my favorite underwear.”
Jack focuses on cutting his next bite of steak. “And now they’re my favorite underwear.”
“Why is that?”
He takes a swig of his beer and shrugs a shoulder. “Because you can’t wear them again.”