Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Philippe Wilson.
My boss.
The man I apparently can’t stand.
CHAPTER 13
Philippe
I’m starting to really like kissing Sutton. A little too much. A lot too much. Her lips are like heaven, and her mouth is like coming home. I could die a happy man (and that’s a big change because I haven’t known what happiness is for years) just from kissing her.
I break it off as Sutton goes in to nip my bottom lip. She misses, and our chins knock together. She pulls away, confusion and anger flaring to life in her eyes. “What the—”
I caress her chin with my thumb. God, I love her chin. She has a beautiful chin. She has a beautiful everything, and I want her mouth. I also want that dress off and in a crumpled heap on the floor, which I know Sutton would gasp at because it was expensive. I want a lot of things I shouldn’t want. And right now, there’s more than a bit of a tingle going on in my dingle. My cock is back to having the same problem I had earlier, and I doubt it’s going to deflate anytime soon because it wants her too.
“I didn’t plan on this…” I stroke her chin, trying to ease some of her annoyance at getting her chin bashed.
“So, you’re suddenly going to act all chivalrous?”
“I said I’d sleep on the floor. And that we’d maintain the pillow wall. If you want this, then you should…well, you should really want it.”
“Thanks for the warning. You don’t think I subtly picked that up just now?”
“If you don’t want it, you should hate talking to me and let me know how much you truly despise me. I’ll go have a shower, then I’ll sit in that chair over there and stare out the window for the rest of the night, and in the morning, we’ll be done with each other.”
“Other than having to see each other every single day at work.”
“I suppose, but you’ll have a nice big raise to make dealing with me bearable.”
“I—I can’t think of anything. You’re putting me on the spot again. I swear you secretly like it. It’s like a new form of dirty talk to you.” There’s a flash in her eyes like she’s got me figured out.
“What if I did?”
“Then I guess it would defeat the purpose of using it as a turnoff.”
“I just want you to be sure. I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t bring anything with me. Are you on the pill?”
Sutton sucks her lower lip into her mouth and worries it unconsciously. “Not really. I mean, I had a shot, but it was seven months ago. And they only last for six. I meant to make an appointment to get it done, but I kept forgetting. And I wasn’t having sex with anyone, so it wasn’t a real pressing need on my mind.”
I can’t pretend I’m not ridiculously pleased with that. The part about her not having sex with anyone, because if there was anyone, I feel like I’d have this insane urge to tear them limb from limb.
“So, we’re not doing this. Not that at any rate.”
“I…you could always pull out.”
I startle at her words, and Sutton’s eyes widen. We stare each other down. “That’s a terrible idea. Obviously! Your grandma was right. That is how babies are made.”
“Okay, so we don’t have to do that. We can just make out and grope each other with our mouths and hands and call it a night.”
“Argh!” I have to pace. There isn’t any other option to release some of the pent up tension within me. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re the one who started this. You were the one who made me stay the night.”
“Yes, I made you do it.”
“You were the one who woke up and was all sad, and you were sad as well down there at the wedding, and you’re the one to blame because your tongue and mouth are way too talented, and how is it my fault I can’t forget the incident that never actually happened!”
“No! You’re not supposed to say things like that. You’re supposed to say you’d rather stick your vagina into a garburator than have sex with me. You’re supposed to say if I stuck my dick into a garburator, it would be so small that there’d be no danger in losing anything. You’re supposed to tell me I smell like rotting garbage and taste like a toad if you licked one. You’re supposed to say my dick probably has warts and is so ugly that it would make you scream in terror and run away, and you’d have to go to therapy after because it would literally haunt you. You’re not supposed to tell me to freaking pull out!”
“You could at least look at me while you insult yourself,” Sutton says in measured tones.