Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
My hand flexed under his now, and I went rigid, my thighs gripping him hard. And then, my eyes closing as I said it. “Yes.”
Please don’t leave me now.
Please don’t— He twisted, his hands went under my arms and he lifted me clear. He stood, but he was moving us back on the bed. His eyes were hooded and dark, and he didn’t want any more words.
I was laid down. He came down on top, his mouth was on mine, and he was hungry.
He was commanding.
He was demanding.
Oh yes, I definitely didn’t think he was going to leave.
Then, I answered him back.
His tongue swept in, and my toes curled.
There were no words to process this.
None at all.
He was touching me. He was kissing me. Loving me. And it felt like, finally.
Finally we were one.
Finally we were whole.
Finally I was with who I’d been waiting for all my life.
Finally.
I was lost in every touch, caress, whisper, every sensation. All of it. As the clothes were removed. As he moved over me. As I felt his arms, his chest, his hands. As I felt him slide a finger inside of me.
Our gazes were locked as he thrust inside, out, back in, and he moved his finger around. A second finger. I wanted him, but I was also helpless against the sensations he was building inside of me, and it was only after I climaxed that he repositioned and reaching down, I caught his hands.
I laced our fingers and he pushed inside.
I moaned, my head falling back. My throat was exposed and as he began moving in and out, his lips fell there and he was kissing me, tasting me all over again.
Every move, we were together.
My legs were wound around his waist.
Our hands stayed together, and he pinned them next to my head.
As he lifted himself up, going for a deeper angle, going harder, my eyes opened again. He was right there, staring into me. He was seeing me, all of me.
I was splayed out for him, for him to take, freely and willingly, and his eyes darkened as he began moving harder, faster.
It was building. Building.
Priming.
I was right there.
Then, he held a second, and I cried out.
Another thrust, slower and farther than he’d been and I was pushed over. I fell over the edge, my entire body exploding in his arms. The edges of my eyes blurred, but I kept seeing him. Watching him. He held my gaze as he waited for me, then he moved in and out until he groaned, his head falling to my shoulder as he was coming with me.
I couldn’t move.
I didn’t want to.
We were in a cocoon and it was perfect.
Then I heard against my neck, his breath tickling me, “I love you, too.”
38
Cheyenne
I wasn’t a snack person, but I woke up with racing thoughts a couple hours later and I knew I was done for. I had to get up, eat some sugar, and head back to bed. Sometimes it was the only thing that worked. Cut’s arm was laying over me, so I slid out, felt around for my phone and found the rest of my clothes.
I’d learned that Cut didn’t usually sleep hard, but he always did after a game. I wasn’t too worried about waking him up as I slipped into some clothes and padded barefoot across the room.
A few steps creaked and the door squeaked a tiny bit, but I waited, and he didn’t wake up.
I was good to go, and speaking of that, I had no clue where to go. I thought he kept a kitchenette on his floor, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to go searching around with my phone lit up, feeling like the criminal my father and Nut-Brother thought of me. I headed downstairs to the actual kitchen.
Flipping on the lights once I was in there, I knew I was far enough away so I wouldn’t wake Cut up. After that, it was snack time.
They had pizza.
Chips. Old nachos—gross.
Then there was a ton of salad, green vegetables. Yogurt. Chicken. Lots of chicken. Some seafood in the freezer. Lots of fruit. Protein powder on the counter.
A container of old sloppy joe.
I was sensing a theme, and I was pretty sure I could identify which was Chad’s, and which food was Cut’s.
Finding some whole wheat bread, and some natural peanut butter and honey, I was making myself a sandwich when a car pulled up outside Chad’s side of the house.
A car door slammed shut.
A stifled shout, and then the car backed up and headed back where it came from.
I sighed.
That was Chad, and he’d had to get a ride home.
That meant Drunk Chad was coming inside.
The door opened. I heard a series of beeps and then a long beep.
The lights switched on after that, flooding the hallway that connected the two homes.