Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Our drive home is thankfully smooth. We sing along to classic rock, and she tells me little stories about bonding with her dad over certain bands. Bringing him up always fills her with happiness yet diving into anything related to her mother, a bit of sadness.
Not really sure why their relationship is so strained, but I get the feeling nothing Jaye does is ever good enough for the woman.
Once we’re home, I announce that I will be unloading our goodies all by myself and for her to get inside where it’s warm. Jaye decides that means to not only change into her pajamas but prep the couch for TV time. Ignoring Mrs. Prescott’s suspicious peeking through her blinds is ten times easier when I know that the woman of my dreams is waiting for me braless in a thin lavender sleep top and matching short shorts.
Our haul is left in the entryway – per my girlfriend’s command – for proper sorting tomorrow, and I don’t bother putting up a fuss about it.
The sleep pants she first gave me are the ones I definitely wear the most and seem to be perfect for our first night on the couch as more than housemates.
More than friends.
Fuck. Me. Remind me to take this shit slow. Yeah, we sort of passed go, collected our two hundred dollars, and went straight to buying property on Boardwalk, but I know physically speaking we should pace ourselves. She hasn’t been with anyone since Chris – a little fact she let slip out on accident about two weeks into our situation – while I haven’t been with anyone since pre-physical therapy which means I’ve been celibate even longer than her. I’m way out of fucking practice. And her finding that out on our first official night together isn’t exactly something I want. Understood?
Stretching ourselves out lengthwise to fit side by side lying down on the purple couch requires the removal of the back cushions yet the instant it’s done, getting comfortable under a shared blanket is effortless. Jaye’s soft, curvy, figure curls itself against me so that her ass is pressed to my front, leaving me with no choice but to chomp down on my inner cheek to keep all the groans it conjures up inside. I do my best to focus on the show Unbreakable that we started binging together a week ago instead of how tiny the shorts are that she’s wearing.
How I can pinpoint exactly where they stop.
Her bare ass starts.
Yeah. Bare ass as in she’s not wearing any fucking panties.
I force myself to zone in on the TV screen rather than how the palm of my hand is resting comfortably on the smooth skin of her stomach with hers lingering on top of it. “All his training looks so fucking real.”
“According to an interview the author did in regard to the show, the guy that plays the main character, actually does train like an MMA fighter, to stay in shape and in character.”
Smiling over the trivial bit of information can’t be helped.
“And the author worked one on one with each of them to really develop their characters wanting them to be as close to the book as possible.”
“Do you think they are?”
“So. Fucking. Close,” Jaye squeals and wiggles in excitement.
Yeah. Don’t fucking need those wiggles. Not now. Not if my dick is ever going to go down again.
All of a sudden, the worst possible thing begins to happen on the huge screen.
In fucking stereo.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding.
Slowly, the MMA fighter whose name I can’t remember now for the fucking life of me, starts to fingerbang the very girl he’s been trying to resist since the show started.
Why is the fucking series mocking me?! What type of bullshit is this?! Did I do something to deserve having to suffer through watching the very thing my hand is breaking itself not to fucking do?!
Jaye follows that surprise with one of her own. She begins to grind her ass slowly against my cock back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The motions alone are enough to get me groaning but hearing her breath become choppy each time she brushes my shaft has me airily huffing.
Burying myself in the crook of her neck to grumble for mercy.
Permission.
Both.
The weak whisper of my name damn near causes me to come in my shorts. “Archer…”
“Yeah, Jaye?”
A breathless whimper escapes as she angles her head over her shoulder to face me.
Relocating my lips to hers is done like an automatic response that can’t be stopped. Determined to capture that deliciously maddening sound, determined to suck it straight out of her into me like it’s the only thing that’s going to keep me alive, has my tongue roughly rolling around hers, searching every inch of her mouth for where that cock-swelling sound could be hiding. More muffled moans encourage me to dive deeper. Search harder for the sources to the audible treasure. Momentarily disregard the way her legs are parting. Thighs spreading. Hand guiding mine lower.