Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He’d bent me over the sofa last night, my jeans at my ankles as he pulled my cheeks apart and licked me open. I’d been taken aback by the rim job, but I couldn’t say why. Court was up for anything. Leisurely BJs on the sofa, hand jobs in the shower, and every sexual position known to man in practically every room in my house.
I could still feel him this morning, and I loved it. I replayed details in my head—the way he filled me and moved inside me, the press of his body from behind, one hand on my hip, the other on my cock. He’d surrounded me, covered me, owned me. I clung to the cushion, panting for air till he pulled out and whispered, “Turn. I want to see you.” I’d obeyed, pleased to see he was as strung out as I was—sweaty, wild-eyed, and hard as nails.
His sheathed cock bobbed obscenely between us till I hooked my leg around his thigh and begged him to fuck me. Court picked me up in one swoop and lowered me onto the sofa, sucking my tongue as he thrust hard and deep.
I didn’t last long enough. I wanted more of him every time. I wanted to do it again…and again.
“You look funny,” Mazie commented, tilting her chin and tapping her black nails on the counter.
“I do?” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and smiled. “How so?”
“I don’t know. Your eyes are all dreamy, you’re humming every holiday song that comes on…even the bad ones, and you’ve remade every hot chocolate that’s been ordered today.” She pointed at her neck. “If that’s a hickey, I’m pretty sure I know why. Good for you, boss. Court’s hot.”
Oh. My. God.
“First of all, let me just say…there is no such thing as a bad holiday song, and—”
“ ‘The Chipmunk Song’ sucks, and so does ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.’ ”
“True, but—”
“Are you going to visit Stacy?” she interrupted.
“Uh…yes.” I slung my computer bag over my shoulder and grabbed my coat from the hook near the entrance, feeling off-kilter for no particular reason. I wasn’t used to anyone commenting on my relationship status in Elmwood. It was jarring. “I, um…I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I can stay till closing if you want.”
Tempting offer. It was relatively quiet in the afternoon, and Lord knew I could use the break.
I flipped my scarf over my shoulder as I pushed the door open. “Thank you, Mazie. Your holiday spirit is on point today!”
“Gross,” she grumbled. “I don’t do holiday spirit. But your boyfriend does.”
“He’s not my boyfriend and—what are you talking about?”
“Court’s hanging garland on the lampposts on Main with a bunch of hockey jocks. Hi, Mrs. Maddox, what can I get started for you?”
I nodded a greeting at the older woman shuffling into the coffee shop and stepped outside, automatically turning toward the posse of boisterous high school aged boys wrapping garland around a lamppost. What the…
Elmwood was always decorated to the nth degree in the days leading to Thanksgiving. Lights crisscrossed Main Street, wreaths hung on most storefront windows, and garland was draped on every other lamppost. It looked positively sublime at night and even prettier when it snowed. It was a done deal a week ago, so I really didn’t understand where the extra garland was going or why the high school hockey team was responsible for putting it up…supervised, no less, by Court Henderson and Vinnie Kiminski.
I couldn’t explain the rash panicky sensation that rooted me to the sidewalk like a statue. I felt oddly intimidated…the way I had as a teenager, unable and maybe even a little unwilling to try to fit in. I was too weird, too awkward, too skinny, too gay. And they’d all been so…cool.
Especially Court.
I studied him now with new eyes. I wasn’t a nervous teen anymore, hiding fear behind a mask of black eyeliner and sheer bravado. And Court was so much more than I’d ever realized.
As for the rest of the group…Vinnie was a big-hearted goofball and the teens…geez, I’d known most of them since birth and saw them daily at Rise and Grind for post-practice lattes and iced coffees. They were good kids and conscientious citizens, I mused as Derek Kinney chased after a stray wrapper and immediately deposited it into a waste bin.
Still…there was something about a gaggle of jocks that set me on edge. I wondered if Court knew I’d never been to a single high school hockey game. Not one. I’d made excuses to avoid pep rallies and homecoming games too. Yuck. The funny thing was that I liked hockey just fine. It wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but I rooted for the Bruins like every other person in Elmwood, and had been to a few pro games.