Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Had one quickie on the deck knocked the bottom out of her common sense?
I’m never doing that again.
She bit back another groan.
Who the hell was she kidding?
She was doing that—him—again.
She carefully closed the door before she decided to join him in that bed.
Chapter Ten
After the second morning of her sneaking out early and coming home late...
Of her walking through the door, pouring herself a normal-sized glass of wine, then taking a couple tokes off his joint...
Of him scrambling to remove his boots and clothes when she stripped naked right on the deck, before riding his dick to orgasm and then heading inside right afterward to her room and shutting him out...
After all that, on Friday morning he made a plan.
On Friday night he left a glass of wine waiting for her by the front door.
Left his boots in the house.
Sat in the dark on the lounger, instead of the chair where he normally sat.
Wore only his boxer briefs.
On the table next to him was a wrap on standby.
Because, fuck yeah, his momma didn’t raise no fool.
His dick already had a half chub because it was anticipating the same pattern as the previous nights.
No deep conversation. Hell, no conversation at all. They’d sit in companionable silence, staring out into the dark while she finished her glass of wine, and took a few tokes off his joint. Then she drove him out of his mind as she emptied his balls before going inside to bed. Alone.
Wine. Pot. Dick. Desertion.
In that exact order.
Normally, he wouldn’t complain about the easy lay. Until he realized the easy lay was him.
She was using him to fall asleep. Like he was a human form of Ambien.
But since it was Friday night, he assumed she didn’t have to get up early the next morning. He wanted to be more than a dick she rode off into sweet dreams.
He actually wanted to have more than sex with her.
He wanted...
Conversation.
Holy fuck.
That can’t be right.
He glanced at the freshly rolled, unlit joint in the makeshift ashtray. He needed to get a new stash of Kush. Or stop smoking dope all together.
Because that had to be the reason for that disturbing realization.
His half chub went to a full-blown erection in the blink of an eye, or more like the growl of his Ford’s engine, as she smashed the accelerator to power it up the mountain. The high beams cut through the woods and slivers of light bounced off him and the windows behind him as his truck climbed its way to the top.
He strained his ears to listen for the slam of the driver’s side door and, in the quiet of the night, the jingle of keys as she made it through the side door into the kitchen.
His blood began to surge, but he refused to turn around and watch her through the window. Instead, he imagined in his mind what she was doing.
Which was, taking way too long for his liking. She needed to hurry the fuck up.
Didn’t she know how long he’d been waiting?
What if she just went to her room and went to sleep? Left him out there waiting with an erection and a plan?
Fuck no.
He smothered his grin when—finally—one of the French doors opened and she stepped out onto the deck, the red wine he’d poured for her in her hand and her gaze landing on him.
Her hair was down around her shoulders and her feet bare, but she still wore her dress pants. Her top wasn’t like the blouses she normally wore when coming out to join him.
It was something a woman would wear underneath. With lace along the upper curves of her tits, where it would hide her cleavage. It was white and hugged those assets perfectly. She must have shucked whatever she had worn over it since he couldn’t imagine her doing her “lawyering” wearing something like that.
Plus, even though she wore a bra under it, like his truck, her high beams were on.
He licked his lips, hoping tonight he’d get to wrap them around her nipples instead of the opposite. While he liked when she gave his nipples attention, it was time to turn the tables.
His preference would be to do it inside. In his bed. Or hers. He didn’t care. Or, hell, on the plush carpet in front of the fireplace. Somewhere he wouldn’t worry about the deck chair giving out on them and causing injury. Like him breaking his dick when they landed hard. He’d seen pictures on the internet of dicks after being broken and it caused nightmares.
He grimaced.
“Are you okay?”
He would be if his dick stayed in one piece and he got to be on top tonight. “Yeah. You?” She hadn’t sat down yet. So now he was starting to worry his plan might be screwed.
She raised the glass. “Thanks for the wine.”