Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
A few seconds later, he stills, shudders, and then I’m tasting his release.
Well, then.
That didn’t take long at all.
With a smile, I swallow his orgasm, then pop off. I flop to my back, laughing. “I’d say I’m the king of blow jobs, but I think a stiff breeze would have gotten you off, Beck.”
He grabs a pillow and hurls it at me. It hits my noggin with a soft thud, and I crack up. Grabbing it, I scoot up the bed and flop onto the pillow, parking my hands behind my head.
The mattress dips, and I see Taco has joined us and is curling up next to Beck.
Then?
The little asshole purrs and rubs his face against Beck’s chest. “Are you kidding me, CockBlocker?”
Beck smiles. “I told you cats like me.”
“No shit,” I say, then I stare at the ceiling, wondering what’s next. My brain’s hazy, though, and I’m still a little woozy, a lot spent.
I’m not sure how long we’ll stay here, naked in my bed, post-sex. “I mean, maybe you were right about his name,” I grumble, just because I want to talk.
“Finally, he admits it,” Beck says as he strokes my cat. The creature rumbles like there’s an earthquake moving through his little body.
“Seriously? Do you have catnip planted in your armpit?”
“I don’t know. Do I?” he taunts, clearly enjoying my cat’s preferences.
“Maybe you do,” I say, then I reach out a hand and attempt to get a pet in. I bump Beck’s hand, though, and our gazes snag, a little awkward, as if we’re both wondering are we holding hands now?
I pull mine back and fold both on my stomach. Is he going to want to take off now that he got off? I frown, hating that possibility.
Oh, shit. I want him to stay.
No clue if he wants to, though, so I don’t ask.
Beck breaks the silence, patting my bed. “So, you really like a big bed?”
Ah, that’s an easy diversion. “Once you go Alaskan King, you can’t go back.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he says.
Ah, so he’s not angling for an invite to stay over. Why do I even want him to spend the night?
Because you like him, dumbass.
But I’ll get over it. I always do. I start to swing my legs out of bed so I can get dressed, but then a sliver of guilt lodges in my chest. This was his first time with a man. I should make sure he’s all good.
I settle back on top of the sheets. Then I clear my throat, unsure what to say. Finally, I pull a Beck, blurting, “What did you think?”
He smirks. “You mean—did I like it?”
Color heats my cheeks. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
His expression turns thoughtful as he looks at me. “I did. A lot, Jason. Like, an insane amount.”
Ah hell.
My heart goes a little wild. And so does my stomach, rumbling.
Beck laughs. “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe? I sort of nibbled earlier.”
“You nibbled? You’re a football player! How do you nibble on dinner?”
“I figured I’d make something. Or order something,” I counter. “But you came over.”
“So I ruined your dinner plans by blowing you?”
“Evidently,” I tease.
He pushes up higher in bed. “You have that beautiful kitchen, and you were going to DoorDash.”
“How do you know I was going to DoorDash?” I’m a little offended he can read me so easily.
“I can tell. You’re a DoorDasher.”
“Fine, I was going to get delivery,” I admit. “But I use Ding and Dine. It’s woman-owned and has good bennies for its employees.”
“Like I said, you’re a nice guy. But, do you want something homemade instead?” he asks, sitting up in bed.
I roll to my side and prop my head in my hand. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“If you want me to, I will,” he says, and the tentative offer is so sweet, so endearing.
But the if stands out to me. Beck’s telling me he wants to stay. He needs to know he’s welcome here, though. It’s my house. I’m the older one. I’m the more experienced one. I need to reassure him.
I also need to make it crystal clear. I sit up and run my knuckles down his jaw. “I do want you to stay awhile.”
He dips his face to hide his smile.
18
BLUSTER IN THE BEDROOM
Jason
Beck’s barefoot and in jeans in my kitchen, sautéing peppers and onions at my stove. Who knew I had taco ingredients? But Beck found a can of black beans in the pantry and some salsa and veggies in the fridge. Then I Instacarted cilantro and taco shells for rush delivery, and voila—there’s a hot guy in my kitchen making me a late dinner.
Is this winning or what?
I lift my beer and take a drink, enjoying the view from the stool at my counter. I’ve got on gym shorts. They’re blue, in honor of Beck.