Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
My legs quaked hard around him. I couldn’t control them, not even as I gripped the edge of the couch and tried to hold on for dear life as his tongue swirled and licked until I started to come again.
It was twice as intense this time after edging, and I cried out his name as my release rocked through me, taking all sense of reality with it. Through the mind-numbing, body-rocking haze of it, I heard Holden moaning, his grip tightening where he held me. I knew he was just making those noises for me, but fuck they were hot, and I savored them as I rode out the last of my orgasm before falling completely lax against the couch.
As soon as I had, Holden collapsed onto his back on the hardwood floor.
He was panting, chest heaving as he splayed his arms and legs out. “Holy fucking hell.”
“I’ll say,” I chuckled, and then I winced as I closed my legs, hips on fire with the motion.
My gaze turned concern when I saw Holden clutching his heart.
“Oh God, are you having a heart attack?!” I dropped to the floor and crawled over to him.
“Maybe.”
“Are you serious?!” Panic started to rise in my throat before he laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling it to his mouth for a tender kiss.
“I’m fine. I just… I’ve never done that before.”
I frowned. “Make me cum with your mouth? Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s incorrect.”
“No,” he said, sitting up with a sheepish grin. “Made me cum like that.”
I blinked, and then I followed his gaze to the couch behind us.
To the semen dripping down the edge of it and onto the floor.
I gaped at it, then back at him. “Oh, my God, you… you… without even touching yourself?”
“I’m as surprised as you are.”
He laughed, and I straddled him before kissing him hard enough to knock him back down to the floor.
“That’s fucking hot.”
“I blame the dancing.”
“Looks like I need to buy a pole I can set up anywhere we go.”
Holden laughed again, pulling me down to meet his lips as he said, “No arguments here.”
After we cleaned up our mess, we showered and crawled into bed together, snuggling to keep each other warm as it began to snow outside my window. I wrapped my arms around him, and he thread his leg between mine, kissing my forehead.
“Sometimes when I hold you like this, I’m still not sure if it’s a dream or not,” I admitted.
“I feel that way sometimes, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I was a fucking mess without you. I never want to feel that way again.”
“Me either,” I confessed. “There were so many times I wanted to call you, to share something with you. Like when I had Christmas with my mom.”
“I’m really glad you two are talking again.”
I snuggled into him. “Me, too. It’s kind of scary but… in a good way. I understand her more now. And I think she understands me, too.”
“I think she just loves me, and therefore you by proxy.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s met you one time.”
“And she adored me. She hasn’t stopped talking about me to you since.”
“Jeez, am I going to have to watch my back for my mom stealing you away?”
“Your dad would really hate me then.”
I pinched his side, and he laughed, wiggling away from me before he rolled over and pinned me in the sheets.
“You’re the only one for me and you know it.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.”
“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he promised. “Again and again until you’re sick of it. Until you’re sick of me.”
I just smiled and kissed him and laughed to myself.
Because I knew in my heart that day would never come.
Three Months Later
Holden
It was just barely beginning to warm up in Boston when draft day rolled around. Spring had come, but not barreling in as we’d all hoped. It was soft, quiet, but promising.
Even so, I’d stripped down to my athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and my Uncle Kevin watched me with an amused smile as I leaned against the edge of the kitchen island, pretending like I was calm. The Lions had just used their fifth pick on a defensive lineman from Hawaii.
I checked my phone just to make sure it was charged — it was, ninety-seven percent. I’d had it plugged in most of the day just in case. I’d also had Uncle Kevin do the same, since his was my backup number.
“Relax,” he told me as he passed by with a refreshed plate of artisanal cheese, meat, and bread. “You’ll get a call.”
“I know,” I said, but the truth was I didn’t know — not for sure. I hoped. And if the analysts I’d been listening to for the past week and a half had any idea of what was going on, they assumed, too.