Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Oh fuck,” he breathed. His hand slid into my hair, gripping tight. He held me in place and began to thrust. Fucking deeper into my throat, filling me. I could tell by the way Oscar’s fingers dug against my scalp, the way the muscles of his hips trembled and his breathing stuttered, that he was on the edge, about to tip over.
I sucked harder, taking him deeper. I reached for his sac, tugging, pulling, then worked a finger back toward his hole. His movements grew more frantic, his breathing labored. He was trying so damn hard to wait, to prolong his pleasure, but I was too eager to see him come to allow it.
My finger slipped into him, and his hips bucked. “I’m gonna come,” he bit out through clenched teeth. It was all the warning I got before his cock began to pulse, filling my mouth and throat with the hot warmth of his taste. I swallowed him down, taking it all.
His hand still in my hair, he yanked my head back, pulling my mouth from his cock and tilting my face toward him. He leaned forward, his mouth meeting mine, tongue plundering and seeking.
With his other hand, he pushed against my shoulder until I lost my balance and tumbled onto my back on the other side of the bed. The crisp cotton duvet was cool against my hot skin.
“My turn,” he growled before lowering his head to my cock. All rational thought left my head the moment I felt the soft warmth of his mouth around my tip. He blew me roughly and messily, one of his hands gripping me tight at the base of my cock.
I was already so wound up that I came quickly, my entire body shuddering as I cried out. Once he was done, Oscar collapsed next to me. We both lay in the center of the large bed, panting as we tried to catch our breath.
“You okay?” Oscar asked after a few moments, his eyes raking over me. “You need anything?”
More, I thought. So much more. I need this not to be the last time with you. Please, god.
“No,” I said, flashing him a smile. “I’m good.”
The little divot of concern that sometimes creased his brow appeared, but only for a split second.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, brushing his lips against my skin and sending shivers down my arms.
My chest squeezed at the words. A part of me wanted to tell him, “I could be here every night if you’d just give us a chance.” But I knew that would ruin the moment and potentially ruin the delicate balance we’d found.
I threaded my fingers through Oscar’s, holding his hand against my chest.
“I am too,” I murmured. He sighed, content, before drifting off to sleep.
For some reason though, it wasn’t as easy for me. I lay awake, the wall of windows across from the bed alive with the lights of the city. I stared out at them, imagining each one as a person going through life with their own concerns, their own fears and desires and dreams.
I wondered how many of them were in love. Or had fallen out of love. Or were desperate for love. Or loved someone who didn’t love them back. I didn’t understand why it all had to be so complicated and difficult.
Love should be easy. That’s how it always seemed to me in all the weddings I’d photographed and all the couples I’d interviewed for my TikTok account. And if it wasn’t easy, maybe that was because it wasn’t meant to be.
Not liking where that train of thought was leading, I slid out of bed and found my boxers in the pile of clothes we’d thrown on the floor. I tiptoed out of Oscar’s room, retracing my steps down the hallway in search of the kitchen.
The first door I opened led to a half bath with marble floors and a floating stone vanity. The next door was to the laundry room, which was almost larger than the bedroom in my apartment. The next door looked to be a pantry of some sort, every wall lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. But it was unlike any pantry I’d ever seen because every shelf was filled with Girl Scout Cookies. And not just a few boxes. Given that each shelf had to be seven boxes deep and three boxes high, there had to be hundreds, if not thousands of them.
I let out a laugh. What the hell? I liked a good Thin Mint when cookie-ordering season came around, but this was unreal. Who knew Oscar was such a cookie fiend?
I noticed cards tucked between several of the boxes and pulled one out. It was a note penned in very neat cursive from a girl thanking him for buying enough boxes that she could join her fellow troop mates on a field trip to a local horse barn. I pulled down another card. This one was another thank-you note for buying enough boxes that she qualified for a scholarship to a nearby summer camp. Several notes were collected in a large glass jar set among the stacks of boxes, all of the notes from Troop 6000 with heartfelt messages about him being their first sale and how much that meant to them.