Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
The first heady taste of him lights up all the neon signs in my brain. The ones that say touch him, taste him, please him.
“Very, very nice,” I whisper as I kiss the tip.
“Incredibly nice,” he agrees, his voice thick with arousal even though I’m barely flicking my tongue along the crown of his cock.
Pride surges in me because I’ve longed to make Jude feel incredible, and now I’m doing it as I swirl my tongue down his length and curl my hands around his spectacular ass. He hums melodically in delight, and he’s practically singing with pleasure already. But there’s still one problem. His skin is cold and wet from the rain. I give a sturdy suck of his dick, hauling him deep and savoring the salty, musky taste, then pop off.
I stand up quickly, slap his cold ass. “That was the point of the shower. I want you all hot and bothered.”
“Oh, I am. Trust me. I am.”
“Get in there,” I say, grabbing the shower curtain, holding it open.
He hops in then turns the faucet on. Water spews everywhere, this time from the tap instead of the showerhead.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says.
“This shower has the world’s worst parts. Hold on,” I say as I spin around and head to the kitchen and grab the tools. I’m back in seconds flat holding the wrench.
Jude leans against the sink. His feet crossed at the ankles, and his hands pressed together in prayer. “I was such a good boy this year, and Santa is giving me a Christmas present early.”
I laugh as I fix the tap.
Jude stares shamelessly at me, stroking his cock as I work the wrench.
“Yes, TJ, I have such a handyman fetish,” he says.
“You really fucking do.” And I love that I’m the lucky beneficiary.
Once I set down the wrench, Jude proves it, pouncing on me, tugging at my jeans.
Soon, we’re both down to nothing, and when he sets his eyes on my naked body for the first time, I feel like a king. He doesn’t seem to know where to look, except everywhere. His hungry eyes eat up my chest and stomach, and my dick, standing at attention for him.
“You,” he says, all low and husky. “You are just . . . all my fantasies.”
That’s what tonight is. A fantasy. Nothing more.
I don’t want to ponder too much on tomorrow—think about where this is going. If I do, the gears in my head will get stuck on the only answer—we’re going nowhere.
Currently, though, we’re on a path to the bedroom, and I want to savor every second of the trip.
Starting now.
I pull him into the shower. As the bathroom heats up and steam wafts around us, we make out like crazy.
Tongues, teeth, bodies. My hand wraps around his cock, and he grabs mine, and we both groan in tandem.
He slides a hand up and down my length like he’s weighing my cock. Then he dips his face against my neck, presses a hot kiss to my skin. “I have to tell you a secret,” he rasps out.
Hot and bothered?
More like molten and aching everywhere.
“Tell me,” I demand.
He kisses my chin. My jaw. Then he draws a deep breath, inhaling me. “Your aftershave . . . I sniffed it the other day.”
“On me?” I ask, shuddering as my hand coasts along his hard length. He does the same to me, and with his other hand, cups my balls.
Ah, fuck, that’s good.
Letting go, I grab his hips and hold on for dear life as he toys with my dick and my mind.
He presses a slow, hot kiss to my lips, then whispers against them, “I steal hits of you whenever I can if I walk past you. If I get close enough.”
I don’t even know how to process this dirty confession. It’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said in the history of sex.
“You want to know what else I do, TJ?” His voice is pure arousal.
“Yes.” It comes out like a plea. It is a plea.
“Sometimes, I come in here when I’m alone in the flat. I open the bottle. Inhale the scent, close my eyes,” he says, stroking me slow and sensual to the rhythm of his words.
This is unreal.
I ache everywhere for him.
I don’t know how he does it, how he turns the tables. I’m supposed to be the writer, and he just told me the most erotic bedtime story ever.
“Do you jack off picturing me?” I’m not sure how I can even form the words to ask anything, but I’ve got to know the answer.
“I like to imagine getting down on my knees and sucking your cock.”
I. Can’t. Think.
I can only do.
Pushing his hand off me, I spin him around, shove him against the wall, and plant a bruising kiss on his lush lips. “But it’s your turn, Jude.”