Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Really? You want to pretend this date didn’t happen?” I set the wineglasses on the ottoman and reach for her. “Oh yeah? You want to pretend, huh?”
She giggles, falling back, giving me space to ease myself between her legs, leaning in for a kiss.
A real one.
The open-mouth, French kind that begins to turn my dick to stone.
“You taste like cheesecake,” she says into my mouth.
“So do you.”
In the distance, an owl screeches, the wind blows, and the leaves rustle.
So fucking perfect.
Eventually, we stop—drink more wine and eat more dessert, my head lying on Molly’s chest, and I sit between her legs facing the opposite direction, my legs dangling over the couch.
In one hand, she holds a wineglass as her other hand runs through my hair.
I’m so fucking relaxed.
“If we’re not careful, we’re going to fall asleep out here and get eaten by a bear,” she says, a comment that’s so random I burst out laughing.
“Bears? This is South Carolina. You’re more likely to get eaten by an alligator. Lucky for you, we’re not on the ground.”
“Shit,” she breathes. “Forgot about that.”
“Are you afraid of bears?”
“I’m afraid of anything that can eat me or kill me with the swipe of the hand.”
“Animals don’t have hands. They have paws.”
“Same thing.”
It’s not—not even a little, but she’s adorable and flustered, and I let her animals have hands.
A shock of wind blows, and I shiver, still only wearing the tee shirt I had on when we arrived, a cold little pussy despite my large size.
“You cold?”
I shrug, not wanting to admit it. “Eh, kind of.”
Molly yawns. “Let’s clean up and get our jammers on. We can cozy up in bed.”
Her delivery is nonchalant.
Her eyes? Can’t meet mine when she delivers the words, that shyness creeping back into her cheeks.
The only privacy in this place is the toilet, situated in the corner next to the kitchen, but it’s cramped, too small for a guy my size to comfortably change. Besides, I’ll probably just wear boxing shorts and a tee shirt?
Or should I sleep in my jeans since I packed for shit and didn’t bring sleep bottoms?
While I’m debating, Molly comes out of the bathroom, wearing a sassy matching set, shorts and a button-down top I wouldn’t ordinarily find sexy.
But this is Molly we’re talking about here. I can’t help but notice the top few buttons of her pajamas are undone. I can’t help noticing she’s not wearing a bra, or I can see her nipples through the fabric, or that her legs are long and smooth.
Shit.
I glance down at my boxer shorts, praying I don’t see an erection, and breathe out a sigh of relief when I don’t.
Not yet.
I have to move fast, making a beeline for the bed so we’re not standing around, getting me all hot and bothered with her witty small talk and perky tits.
Hands on her hips, she stands at the foot of the bed, confronting me with an irritated look.
“What’s your rush? You’re not even going to help me turn off all the lights and lock up?”
I would, but I’m terrified to get up; figuratively and literally, not wanting a boner to spring up in the stupid boxer briefs. Of course I don’t say those words because it would make me sound like a fucking pervert.
On the other hand, this is Molly, and nothing is off-limits.
Best to keep it real.
“It’s my shorts,” I confess the truth. “My dick keeps sticking through the pee hole, and I don’t want to look like a fucking perv.”
Sorry not sorry?
She laughs, walking through the room and flipping the lights off, but there are no shades in this massive fishbowl, so the moonlight filters in.
I can see the outline of her as she makes her way back in the semi-darkness, feeling her way to the bed, where I’m lying on the left side.
When she climbs in beside me, the bed dips, and the vintage metal frame creaks.
“I’ve never been in bed with a man I wasn’t in a relationship with,” she says at last, covers pulled up to her waist. Molly turns to her side to face me, propping her head up with her palm.
“Me either.”
Her soft laughter reaches my ears and has me smiling.
“This month has been a lot of firsts for me.” I hear her fingertip trailing along the cool, crisp sheets. “I’ve never been anyone’s wingman. I’ve never helped someone try to win a bet. I’ve never been on a first date in a completely different state.”
“Never have I ever made a bet with someone so ridiculous I’m thinking of ways to get myself out of it without coming off as a complete prick. Never have I ever been friends with a woman before taking her on a first date.”
I hear her thinking before she says, “I would imagine that Jack and Penelope would be understanding? Just be honest and tell them you only made the bet because you had your head up your own ass.”