Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I licked his lips and kissed his jaw while I kneaded his ass cheeks. “You’re so fucking hot. Hot Dad. I’ve been calling you that in my head for months, you know.”
Bryson chuckled. “Hot Dad? That’s…weird.”
“I’m weird,” I admitted.
“No, you’re lovely. Inside and out.”
I smiled, slowly pulling his briefs and jeans. “And I suck cock like a champ.”
I was on my knees in seconds flat, fisting his gorgeous dick. I stroked him a few times, opened wide, and sucked. Bryson groaned somewhere above me. He sounded tipsy with desire, but I wanted him drunk with it. I wanted him to use me, take whatever he needed from me.
We were both probably guilty of holding back to some degree…we’d agreed that was for the best. This wasn’t serious. This was something we planned to walk away from at some point. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I didn’t kid myself. I knew I wasn’t good enough for Bryson. I wanted to be, though. If it were possible to show him how I felt, I’d do it. I’d suck him so good, fuck him even better. It was important for him to know he was seen, admired, appreciated…adored.
I couldn’t do it with words, but I could do it with my mouth and my hands and my cock. So I got to work.
I bobbed my head double time while I teased him, parting his sensitive pucker and tapping his entrance. Bryson bent his knees and lost a little of his cool. He bucked his hips, fucking my mouth like he meant it. I gagged once or twice, but he didn’t stop and if my dick wasn’t pulsing in my jeans with the not-so-subtle request for freedom, I might have let him come down my throat.
Next time.
I stood and crashed my lips over his, unbuckling and unzipping in a flurry of motion.
“Fuck me,” he panted.
“Yes.”
I pushed my jeans and briefs to my knees, hooked his left leg over my ass, and humped his cock, twisting our tongues feverishly.
“Now, Smitty. Now.”
I nodded, shucking off my clothes as Bryson strode to the bed and gathered supplies from his nightstand. I pounced, grabbing the lube in between kisses then climbed over him and settled between his thighs, sliding my slick fingers into his hole while I showered my lover with kisses. I couldn’t stop fucking kissing him—his neck, his jaw, his chest…
I pumped two fingers inside him, then three, scissoring and stretching. My poor cock had a heartbeat all its own, and every nerve ending in my body was on fire, begging for friction and sensation. I suited up, glided the tip over his hole…once, twice, and pushed.
We did this often enough that we had our own rhythm. I knew how to touch him, how to move, how to get deeper and hit that perfect spot, the one that made his toes curl and his eyes roll in his head. I was good at this, but I wanted to be better for him. I wanted us to be worth the secrets and the half-truths.
So I tried a little harder. I kissed his temple as I plunged over and over, hiking his left leg to his chest, rolling my hips and rocking back and forth, back and forth.
Bryson gasped and moaned, wrapping me in his arms, whispering a litany of nonsensical praise and “yes, yes, yes.”
I couldn’t say what pushed me over the edge. It might have been that trick he did where he tightened his ass muscles or when he raked his nails along my sides, arching his hips off the mattress. It was all too much.
“Shit, I’m gonna—I…”
He shot his load, spurting ribbons of cum between us. We both cried out at once, slamming our mouths together as if to silence the animal-like keening. We shook and grunted, sucking in air as we slowly landed on planet Earth again.
Afterwards, we lay in a mess of limbs, a sheet tangled between us, and stared at each other wearing matching Cheshire cat grins. No words necessary.
That was good. I wouldn’t have known what to say. I like you. I like us. I wish…I wonder…maybe there’s a way to make this work.
Nope. Not fuckin’ brave enough. Not yet.
15
BRYSON
Jake glowered at the toilet, then at me. “Smitty? No. Call a real plumber.”
“He fixed the leak in the guest bathroom. I’m sure he knows what to do about running toilets.”
“Catch them?” Jake quipped, reluctant humor brightening his eyes before he resumed scowling. “What if the leak he fixed led to the toilet issue?”
“I somehow doubt that, but someone who knows plumbing will know the answer to that.” I texted Smitty and tossed my cell onto the kitchen island. “I’ll make those pancakes now. Want some coffee too?”
He sighed heavily and padded forward, stretching his arms wide as he took a seat. “Sure. Thanks.”