Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
The ice cream shop is much more basic with no exotic flavors, which is fine with me. I like to be adventurous with food, but sometimes, you can’t beat the classics.
Brax chooses chocolate, I get cookies and cream, and we sit outside at one of the shop’s small tables and enjoy our cones in comfortable silence. I’m not far into mine when I notice him watching me eat. More specifically, he’s focused on my tongue as I make long licks up each side of the large ice cream scoop to keep it from dripping.
His attention makes me blush, but I catch myself. I can flirt. There’s no reason to shy away from it.
When I pause, he meets my eye. I hold his gaze as I take another long lick, slower this time, the tip of my tongue swirling through the melting cream.
His eyes go dark and hungry, and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks redden like mine. Just like when Gray was flirting with me when I first met him, I feel powerful and desirable, and it’s exhilarating.
He and I carry on flirting with our eyes as we eat our desserts. Brax rests the tip of his shoe against the side of my foot, and slowly rubs the spot back and forth, making something in my stomach dance and twirl.
When it’s time to leave, I almost feel light headed.
He walks me to my car, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, and I’m grateful for the contact. I was hoping the incident at the park hadn’t scared him off of touching me.
At my car, he opens the door for me, but I hesitate before getting in. It’s an off time; the plaza we’re in isn’t busy, but it’s not empty, either. I wish I’d asked him to drive me to the park, because then he’d have to drive me home, and we could say goodbye at my door again, or inside my apartment.
“I had a really great time. Thank you.” Already missing our game of footsy, I rub the toe of my shoe against his.
He slides a hand around my waist. “Let’s get together soon.”
“I’d like that.”
Our eyes are locked on each other, and I stay there looking up at him, silently begging him to kiss me. It doesn’t take long for him to hear my unspoken plea.
He rests his arm on the top of my car door, creating a small bit of privacy for us, even though I’m beyond caring. Watching him eat his ice cream, and having him watch me, has got me worked up, and I think that if we were at my apartment, I’d be pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. I’m not exactly sure what I’d do after that, but with Brax’s help, I’d figure it out.
He brushes his lips against mine, presses a kiss there, and then pulls back. I go up on tiptoes and keep the kiss going, wrapping a hand around his neck and leaning into him. We don’t kiss for long—not nearly long enough—but it’s wonderful, and I sigh when he steps back. “I love kissing you.”
His answering smile does nothing to soothe my need. “Same,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to my lips one last time before he helps me into the car, tells me goodbye, and closes the door.
The ache inside me persists through the drive home. I arrive at my apartment feeling vaguely sweaty, still thinking of how things could have gone if Brax had come to my place.
I get into the shower, hoping it will cool me off, but instead, my soapy hands only highlight the fact that certain parts of my body are extremely agitated.
I’ve never touched myself in the shower before—not like that—but today my fingers return to the area between my legs even after it’s clean. A wave of sensation jolts through my body like lightning, and I shudder as I steady myself against the wall with my free hand.
I’m throbbing down there, and I need to find that feeling again. My fingers explore until the jolt is triggered once more. There’s a spot that feels different—that feels so good—and I start to focus my efforts there.
Though I sometimes touch myself in bed—especially lately—I’ve never put much effort into it. I’ve laid my hands on myself like I was touching any innocent part of my body, as if it wasn’t intentional, even though I knew it was.
I was taught it was wrong, touching myself. It’s a sin.
But of all the sinful things I’ve been doing lately, this seems the most harmless. Who is this hurting? How can it be bad for me when it feels so good?
My fingers circle the spot, and I whimper at how good it feels. Something in me says that I should go faster, and I do, even as my legs grow weak and my breathing hollows out.