Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I would use him for sex. Just this once. Because of… medical reasons, really.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against the back of my ear. “About leaving you last night. You were right—you deserve so much better than that.”
One of his knees slid between my legs and nudged them apart. His thumb flicked the button open on my pants before strumming down my shaft over the cotton of my underwear.
“I do,” I breathed. “I really do.”
“You deserve to be treated well,” he said before grasping the shell of my ear between his lips. “Pleasured well.”
I braced my hands against the shelf in front of me to keep from impaling myself on it. “Yes.”
Champ’s hand reached inside my boxer briefs and grasped my dick, squeezing just the right amount before moving his hand down to fondle my balls.
“Fucking Christ,” I groaned. “Why… you… and the talking. Not good.”
His mouth moved against my ear, and his voice was low enough to vibrate in my stomach. “No talking this time, sweetheart. Someone might hear.”
My stomach rolled over deliciously at the sound of an honest-to-God real endearment out of his mouth.
I vaguely recollected that the house would be full of people this morning. Tommy and Carlotta had stayed overnight. Marissa and Levi. Presumably, Trey would show up at some point this morning to offer his apologies.
We couldn’t have sex in the damned pantry.
My pants and underwear hit the floor while Champ’s mouth continued moving down the side of my face to my neck with open-mouthed kisses after pressing a finger into my mouth to get it wet.
“Oh God,” I groaned again when the spit-slick finger reached my hole. I stood up on tiptoes before relaxing down against it and letting him in. “Oh fuck.”
“That’s it. But I need you to be quiet.” His voice was mesmerizing.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded and closed my eyes, dropping my chin to my chest when his finger pressed in deeper. The small space was getting uncomfortably warm. “More.”
His free hand came up to cover my mouth in a tight grip. The feel of him silencing me was so hot, I felt my dick jerk.
“Shhh,” he warned against my bare shoulder. When had he pulled off my shirt? I stood almost completely naked in Tommy Drakes’s kitchen pantry.
During breakfast time.
A whine escaped my throat only to be muffled by his hand.
“Want to get inside you,” he said under his breath, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Please.”
I nodded against his hand, trying not to feel as desperate for him as I clearly was. Champ fumbled behind him before letting out a curse. “No wallet, no condom. Fuck.”
I let out another whimper and slumped back against him. His hand moved up to hold the front of my throat as his voice stayed low and warm in my gut. “Stay here while I go—”
“No,” I blurted. “It’s okay. It’s… you can… we don’t need…”
The tension between us vibrated with unspoken words. “We’ve never talked about going bare.”
I let out a breath and reached behind me to hold the back of his head. “I’ve never… Not with anyone.” I would have gone bare with Scott, but he’d been squeamish about the mess, which I’d later been grateful for. “Can we? Please? I haven’t… I mean, I’ve tested since…” I cleared my throat. “It’s only been you for a while now.”
The hand on my throat tightened almost imperceptibly while his thumb grazed up under my jaw to angle my head. His lips moved to mine. “Same. It’s only you.”
We kissed, an intense moment unintentionally dividing our time together in two, before and after. Going bare together meant we could no longer pretend it was simply a months-long one-night stand, no matter how much I was fooling myself into thinking this was over.
His free hand moved to the shelf in front of me and grabbed a slender green bottle of olive oil. Within moments, his oil-slick fingers invaded me. I sucked in a breath and arched back, begging for more. It was quick and dirty, debauched and risky in so many ways.
We both knew someone could walk in at any moment. Tommy Drakes, father of the bride and suspected small-time criminal. Carlotta Drakes, society maven and gossip queen. Marissa Drakes, sweet, trusting client who deserved my professionalism. Levi, who was in charge of keeping the farmhouse free of bullshit like this. Possibly Trey Dunwoody, the sexually confused groom who would no doubt get his rocks off watching Champ’s bare butt flexing as he drove his cock into me.
I should have cared deeply.
I didn’t.
I begged him for more. Begged him to pound into me harder. I whimpered stupid truths about wanting him never to leave me again. All the while, my conscience pleaded for us to stop.
“Someone will hear us,” I warned in a breathy voice.
“Let them,” he growled.