Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I leaned against the counter, gripping the granite for dear life as he took me doggy-style in the middle of my kitchen. Catching a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the window over the sink, I realized he was just as lost in lust as I was.
We both climaxed fast and furiously. As he came, he gripped my body, holding me in place while he slammed into me, once again filling me with his heat.
When he stopped moving, he whispered, “I’m fucking addicted to you. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know whether he was apologizing for wanting me or apologizing for his impending desertion. Either way, I was screwed.
Naked macaroni was now my very favorite meal. After fucking Bridget in the kitchen, we decided to make a quick dinner. She’d attempted to put her clothes back on, but I persuaded her to cook with me naked. Naked cooking led to naked eating, and I was beginning to think we should just stay naked forever. Naked with Bridget was fucking awesome.
We were sitting on the floor in the living room with our empty plates on the coffee table. I swiped two fingers across the remnants of sauce on her plate and used it to paint one of her nipples before I bent to lick it off.
“Mmm. This sauce is fucking fantastic.”
She laughed. “You’re a little insane, Simon.”
“Come on, admit it. You just eyed the sauce on my plate and thought about painting my cock, didn’t you?”
My beautiful, naked girl blushed. “We’re already one over our agreement. Not sure a painting party would be a good way to ensure we kept to the terms.”
Fuck the terms.
“About that. We agreed to have sex once only, right?”
“Well, clearly those terms were modified, but yes, that’s what we agreed to.”
I nodded. “Good. So there was no other agreement.”
Bridget squinted. “What are you getting at? I can see the wheels spinning inside that mop-covered head of yours.”
“Well, we agreed on sex, right?”
“Yes…”
“I’d like to point out that it was your former President who declared that sexual relations referred only to the act of having intercourse.”
Bridget choked on the wine she was sipping. “You want to use President Clinton as your precedent so you can what…feel me up still?”
I nodded. “Amongst other things, yes.”
“What type of other things?”
“Well, I’d like to refrain from making a conclusive list that can be held against me in the form of a second agreement. But I believe cunnilingus, fellatio, fingering, anal sex, heavy petting, handies, pillow pounding, and mutual self stimulation with visualization are all excluded from our deal.”
“I got the first few.” Her face was adorable when it scrunched up. “But what in the Lord’s name is pillow pounding and mutual self stimulation with visualization?”
“Ah. I’m glad you asked.” I reached over and grabbed both her breasts. (Have I mentioned I fucking love naked macaroni?) Squeezing those beauties together, I looked up at her and wiggled my brows. “I’m going to stick my cock between these beautiful pillows—hence, pillow pounding.”
Bridget’s eyes bulged, so I took that as a sign I should keep talking.
“And mutual self stimulation with visualization? You’re going to open these legs wide and show me your pretty pussy while you get yourself off with your vibrator. I’ll be doing the five knuckle shuffle on my wood at the same time. Hence, the mutual part.” I winked.
Bridget wanted to be appalled—she really did. But her wide eyes dilated and nipples pebbled telling me she really liked my dirty talk even if she didn’t think she was supposed to. “Simon—we can’t do any of that.”
“And why not?”
“Let me ask you something serious for a minute?”
“I was being serious, but okay.”
“Are you still planning on moving out?”
My heart sank. I never really wanted to move out to begin with. “Do you want me to move out?”
I saw the sadness in her face. “Do you think we can live together and keep our hands off of each other?”
Honesty isn’t always the best policy. I’d learned that in third grade when Alison Eggert asked me if she looked plump in the dress she was wearing. Apparently, yes was unacceptable even if the stripes made her look a bit portly. She never spoke to me again. I put on my best serious face and responded to Bridget adamantly with a lie. “Yes, I do.”
Bridget’s brows jumped. “Yes? You do?”
“If that’s what you need from me, yes.”
She sighed. “God, Simon, why do we have to be in such different places in life and want such different things out of it when we obviously enjoy each other so much?”
I fucking hated that she was right. “I don’t know, Bridget. But it seems a little cruel, doesn’t it? You haven’t had sex in two years, and I haven’t wanted to be around a woman after sex in…I don’t know…almost my entire adult life. Isn’t there a way for us to live in the moment and enjoy what we have for just a little while longer?”