Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
“I’ll take my time later. Right now, I need in you too badly.”
I unbutton his jeans. “Then stop talking and fuck me.”
“Gladly.” He shakes off the rest his clothes and removes mine.
My socks are removed with my jeans, my panties all but torn from me, and my bra roughly unclipped. He grabs my legs and hooks them around him, leaning one of his knees on the sofa. He lifts my hips and rubs himself against my wetness, covering the head of his cock and teasing me until he pushes inside.
I reach for him as he fills me. I cling to him like a koala, lifting my hips into him as he kisses my neck and drives into me forcefully. My nails dig into his shoulders. One of his hands is steadying him and the other is in my hair, tangling and pulling it, and I’m moaning in his ear, asking him to go faster, because I need more, always more.
He closes his mouth over mine and swallows my cries as they get louder. Our skin slaps together and my body is hot, so hot, trembling, shaking, shuddering, ready for the explosion of the build. Ready to feel him finish inside me, ready to take every last bit he has.
I bite down on his bottom lip. He groans and thrusts harder. It’s painful in the most beautiful way. He tugs on my hair and bites me back on my lip, a possessive nip, and that’s my moment.
My body tightens in delight as the orgasm washes over me. Needed and welcome, I hold Tyler until he comes, too. He collapses on top of me, my name leaving him in a series of quiet whispers.
“My bitch,” he murmurs, turning his face to mine and kissing me.
“Your bitch,” I reply just as quietly, running my fingers through his hair.
He lets out a long breath and holds me tight to him. His heart is pounding in a relentlessly fast beat, the same as mine. I never want to move. I just want to stay here, in his arms, because I know that, in a few minutes, it’s going to get serious.
He doesn’t move either. Neither of us wants to tackle the bullshit no matter how badly we want to make this work.
“Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s snuggle and talk.”
I smile and let go reluctantly. Now my heart is pounding in apprehension, not happiness. “You know we have to tell each other everything, right? If we’re going to do this…a relationship— a real one—we have to have no secrets.” I swallow hard.
He helps me up and pushes some hair from my face. “Yes. I know. Both of us.”
I nod. “Can I go first? I mean… Before I chicken out.”
A small smirk tugs his mouth. “You usually do go first.”
I slap his arm. “Bastard.”
He laughs and gets up. Cocky fucker—but I’m no longer so scared. That small break in the tension is what I needed. What we both needed.
He pulls on his pants and I grab some shorts and a T-shirt from my room. When I come back out, Tyler hands me a cup of coffee and grabs his cup of tea. I smile as we settle on the sofa, facing each other, my legs hooked over his. He tugs the coffee table closer so we can reach from this position. Then he wraps his arms around me and links his fingers behind my back.
“Okay. Just…talk,” he says.
“Um. Okay.” I settle my fingers against the top of his stomach. The lump in my throat is the only thing stopping bile coming up—I know it. “Well, I went to my parents’ house yesterday. I needed to get out of the city to think. Of course, my batshit crazy nana was there, so I got more of an ass-kicking than I did thinking. But anyway, she made me realize that you have to face your fears if you’re ever going to get over them. So. Here I am. Fear-facing.”
Tyler’s thumbs stroke my back gently, and I take a deep breath and continue.
“So. Past.” I look down at where my fingers are resting on his abs. “Yeah.” One-word sentences really aren’t doing much. Shit. I need to start making sense.
“We have time,” he says softly.
I shake my head. “You do. I don’t. I have a lack of lady-balls right now.”
He laughs quietly.
“Okay. I’m just gonna blurt it out in one great big breath so it probably won’t make much sense.”
“I’ll try and keep up.”
“You do that.” I swallow once more, wondering if, by the time this is through, I’ll have swallowed my own throat or not. “There was this guy in my senior year of high school and we’d been flirting for a bit. We got closer and closer, and by the time Christmas was coming around we were pretty much a couple. Anyway, we were crazy in lust and we were together like all the time and I mean like all the time and I thought I was stupid in love with him because I was young and dumb but I wasn’t I was totally obsessed. He was my first real boyfriend so I’d never felt anything like it, and I didn’t know it wasn’t normal to be addicted to someone that way. We split before college and I felt like everything was tumbling around me. I was in this fuck-off funk that nothing and nobody could bring me out of. The only light was if I happened to see him or speak to him. I started listening to voicemails he’d left on my phone when I missed one of his calls just to get through the day. His voice was like my drug—one fix and I’d be okay. But I wasn’t. I never was. I missed him too much and when I really realized we were over I went crazy. Not freak-out crazy. Grab-a-bottle-of-pills-and-down-them crazy.”