Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
His fingers work the button to my jeans and slide down the zipper. “Fuck me …” He moans and drops to his knees as he discovers my lack of underwear.
When my jeans hit my ankles, I step out of them. “Koen!” I yell while his mouth dives, eager and hungry, between my legs.
While my knees fight to keep from buckling, I wrestle with my sweater to shrug it off. Koen unfastens his jeans and strokes himself several times before standing and discarding his shirt.
With his jeans and briefs barely past his butt, he lifts me and presses my back to the wardrobe door. I bite his shoulder and pinch my eyes shut to keep from making any more noise while he relentlessly pumps into me.
Embarrassment awaits us downstairs when we’re done, but I don’t care because I’m too busy reveling in the moment. I’ve missed him and this so much. There’s nothing better than being so horny that your mind loses all ability to make rational decisions. Wanting (needing) this orgasm trumps everything.
“I love … you … Scottie Rucker. So … fucking … much.”
I open my eyes and press my hands to his cheeks so he looks at me. But he doesn’t stop moving, and my need to orgasm doesn’t lose momentum.
I grin.
He grins.
We release, kissing hard to mute the moans until he drops his head to my shoulder, breathless.
“I love you, Koen Sikes.” My fingers tease the nape of his neck. “My heart is all-in.”
After we put ourselves together, including his black tee that I have to shove way down into my jeans, we head down the stairs hand-in-hand.
“Gettin’er done, son. Good for you.” A man in a cowboy hat chuckles, lifting a beer bottle toward us. He wrinkles his veiny nose and sniffles before taking a long swig and wiping his mouth with his denim shirt sleeve.
Shelly cringes, eyeing Herb, who smacks his hand on the barstool beside him. “Have a seat and leave him alone, Russ,” Herb says.
Kaleb’s jaw clenches while he glares at his dad, but Koen just leads me to the other side of the island and hands me a plate. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Scottie.”
His dad leans over the island, letting his shirt fall into the dip while offering me his hand. “I’m Russ. Nice to meet such a pretty little thing.”
I glance at Shelly, but she keeps her head bowed.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking it.
“Bout time you got back on the horse,” Russ says. “Maybe you can keep this one if you stay sober. Ain’t that right, honey.” He eyes Shelly, but she slides a chip into her mouth and ignores him.
“Why don’t I drive you home, Dad?” Kaleb suggests, tossing his empty plate into the garbage.
“I just got here. We haven’t even cut the cake.”
“You’re right.” Herb slides the round cake with chocolate frosting toward him and cuts a piece with a flimsy plastic knife. Then, he deposits it onto Russ’s plate and hands him a fork. “Eat up, son.”
After I absentmindedly fill my plate with food, Koen steps behind me, arm around my waist, hand splayed on my stomach, and walks us backward until he’s leaning against the opposite counter, sipping water while I pop grapes into my mouth.
This is the most awkward situation I’ve been in since … well, maybe ever.
Russ eats his cake and drinks his beer while everyone watches in silence.
When he finishes the last bite, Kaleb snatches the plate and empty bottle and drops them in the trash. “Let’s go, Pops.” Kaleb not so gently grabs Russ’s arms and forces him off the stool. “Can you take Grandpa home?” he asks Shelly.
She gives him a sad smile and nods while sliding her plate away from her and dusting off her hands.
Still, Koen says nothing.
As Kaleb and Russ head toward the white Toyota 4Runner, Herb slips on his gray cardigan, and Shelly tidies up the food. “Will you and Scottie eat this if I leave it here?” she asks.
“Sure,” Koen says calmly as if nothing has happened.
“I’m sor—” she starts to apologize.
“Don’t.” Koen releases me and steps toward his mom, hugging her. “Don’t ever apologize.”
She releases him and finds a more believable smile for me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Scottie. I hope next time we can chat more.”
“Nice meeting you as well.”
“All right, boy, take care of that girl.” Herb winks at us.
“Happy birthday, Grandpa.” Koen hugs him, and I smile when Herb gives me his conspiratorial grin.
After the door closes, and it’s just us, Koen turns, sliding his hands into his front pockets. “My dad’s an alcoholic.”
“Yeah? Well, you were quite patient with him compared to your brother.”
His gaze drops to his feet. “Kaleb’s never had an issue with alcohol. I have.”
“Is your dad’s drinking the reason why your parents got divorced?”
“Yes.”
I set my plate aside.