Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“See you tomorrow.” He spoke with a little more warmth. There was a smirk playing on his face, and my gut was suddenly surrounded by flames. A need to make the smile bigger filled me.
I said my goodbyes and left Stonewall Investigations, feeling like my life was on the brink of changing in more ways than one.
The fire didn’t extinguish until I got back home, where I immediately dropped my shorts and loaded up my secret Twitter account. I went right to town, jerking off on my couch and blowing my load after setting my phone down, nothing but the image of naked Beckham in my head.
There were no videos online that could compete with that image, even if I didn’t have it exact. I couldn’t remember every inch of skin, every piece of him that I wanted to trace with my kisses.
I’d get it exact, though. I’d commit that man’s body to memory the second I got him naked again.
That man… what a man he was.
I still wasn’t sure of Beckham’s age, but it was obvious he had at least ten years on my twenty-four. I’d never dated someone older than me by even a day, so this was pretty new territory. It was scorchingly hot territory. There was something about the confidence he carried himself with and the surety he had in all his actions that really set him apart from the previous guys I’d been with. Besides Derrick, who always said he felt like a thousand-year-old soul in a kid’s body, every guy I’d been with was either obsessed with school, obsessed with video games, or dealing with an addiction to both. Maybe I just hadn’t picked them right, but after four failed relationships, I was beginning to give up. At least temporarily.
Then in walked Beckham.
Well, in walked me and intercepted Beckham if you want to be exact.
And the rest was history yet to be written. Just had to cross my fingers that there was a happy ending waiting in the wings, not a tragic one.
9 Beckham Noble
As Oliver walked out of my office, I couldn’t stop my gaze from dropping, admiring those long, lean legs of his, leading all the way up to that firm arse of his that looked like a full-course meal in his tiny white shorts.
The door shut behind him, and my office fell into silence.
“What in the fuckin’ world.”
I leaned back in my chair, the chair leaning with me. The popcorned ceiling filled my vision, a much less desirable sight than watching Oliver walk away.
This felt like a prank. I knew it wasn’t, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there would be an entire camera crew bursting through my door at any moment. How in the world could we explain this situation otherwise?
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, washing the cotton candy clouds in a beautiful deep purple and red. A palm tree swayed gently in the ocean breeze outside of my window. I stood, opening the windowpane and letting the sounds of Miami Beach fill my space. It was much better than the silence that had taken over from the second Oliver left.
Oliver… what is it about you…
He was something else. He was bubbly and bright but not vapidly so. There was a depth to him that I wanted to plunge into headfirst. I wanted to feel his waters surrounding me, enveloping me. From my toes to my scalp.
And then, on the same token, I wanted to keep my distance. This might have felt like a meeting determined by the fates, but I knew there was so much more to this than “destiny.” Sure, I was extremely attracted to Oliver and intrigued by his person, but that didn’t mean we were a perfect match. I’d found out the hard way that not many men I meet are, in fact, a perfect match. Things somehow always fall apart, and I wasn’t about to get my hopes up over Oliver just because we couldn’t keep our lips off each other.
He was clearly younger than me by a good number of years, and that generational gap was a difficult one to cross. It’d sunk a couple of my past relationships, and I could only assume that this would be the same. It didn’t matter how well I felt I got along with the guy, our differences would begin to show and they would outweigh whatever we shared in common. It was just the way things worked. I couldn’t get my hopes up. No matter how attractive Oliver was. No matter how badly I wanted to trail my lips up those lean legs of his before holding them up in the air by his ankles and taking him another way.
Plus, he’s a bloody good kisser.
I stood up so I could stretch my legs. I could still smell Oliver’s fresh cologne in the air, notes of citrus and oak painting a smile on my face.