Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Do you have it?”
“Mhmm,” he said, standing up and going over to the large entertainment console underneath the television, which had a changing screensaver that made it appear as if it were a hanging piece of art. Currently, a dreamy midnight scene of a lake and a couple set inside a modern black frame took up the entire screen. Colton grabbed two controllers and pressed the power button on the gaming console, the screen switching on and the art being replaced by a simple and clean white interface.
“Damn, I haven’t played this in years,” I said as Colton handed me the controller and took a seat on the couch next to me.
“Good, so then I really do have a chance.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I teased. “I’ve still got muscle memory.”
Turned out I actually didn’t have any muscle memory. Not when it came to video games, at least. Colton proved his skills by launching me off the screen about five times in under two minutes, earning him a win. He jumped up from the couch and did a little victory dance, which had him wiggling his butt in a way that had me hypnotized.
“Rematch?” I asked when Colton calmed down. He fell back on the couch and grabbed his controller. There was less space between us this time, with his knee nearly touching mine.
Just like old times…
Except, if it really were just like old times, Colton and I would be pants-less with his leg thrown over mine, our video games breaks consisting of us playing with each other.
We went a couple more rounds, all of them going to Colton until the very last one, when the skills started coming back to me and I was able to claim a victory.
Colton set the controller down on the side table next to the couch. He stretched out, taking off his socks by rubbing them on the floor. He grabbed them and bundled them together, setting them to the side.
Something about Colton being barefoot made the room get about ten degrees hotter. I wasn’t totally obsessed with feet, but Colton’s feet were about to change that.
…Maybe because I could vividly recall how it felt when I was kissing them as I slowly fucked him, his legs up on my chest and his eyes rolling back in his head and his… fuck.
I was hard. Rock hard. I grabbed a yellow pillow and placed it on my lap, trying to cover the obvious bulge Colton was giving me.
And we’re supposed to talk about boundaries tonight. Great.
As if on cue, Colton stood up, looking down at me with his head cocked. “Alright, want another glass of wine before we get started? I think I’m going to make myself some popcorn.”
“Go for it,” I said.
“Come with me to the kitchen. I can show you what I did to it.”
“I, uhm, have to check some emails,” I said as my cock gave a rogue twitch underneath the pillow.
“Seriously? At ten in the evening?”
I grabbed my phone and tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs. “Yeah, I had to transfer all my cases over to a new PI before leaving. There’s a place I’ve worked with in the past, Stonewall Investigations, and they’re opening up a new spot here, so they were just seeing if they could take on my caseload.”
While I picture dropping my load all over your face.
Fuck, I was horny. I’d have to deal with this on my own later.
“Gotcha,” Colton said, walking over to his kitchen. There was a long cutout in the wall that separated the two rooms so he could still see me, which meant I was keeping this pillow on my lap until my body decided it was time to calm the hell down.
The beeps of the microwave sounded off in the kitchen, followed by the familiar sound of popping popcorn. I glanced up, seeing Colton leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at the microwave so that his back was turned toward me. I took a second to adjust my slowly softening dick and went back to checking emails, relieved to see one that confirmed my cases were being taken up by Stonewall.
“So?” Colton asked as he returned with a bowl of popcorn and another beer. “Are they taking them?”
“Yes, thankfully.” I sniffed the air and looked over at the bowl. “People never change, do they?”
Colton rolled his eyes and sat down. “Are you talking about my slightly burnt popcorn?”
“Yes, I think you might be the only human being with a functioning set of taste buds that enjoys eating burnt popcorn.”
“Slightly burnt popcorn. And so what? It’s like asking for your steak well-done, except this is easier to cook.”
I laughed at the fact that Colton considered himself a chef after microwaving a bag of popcorn for ten seconds longer than recommended.
“You sure you don’t want some?” he asked, tipping the bowl in my direction.