Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“You were part of my freedom too,” Levi admits. “The whole idyllic picture of moving away from the East Coast.”
“You know this is going to get messy, don’t you? Not only because of the media, but the draft is in April. I graduate in May, and—”
Levi’s arms wrap around my neck. “We don’t need to think about next year yet. Let’s enjoy this. While we still can.”
I kiss the tip of his nose. “Can I stay tonight?”
“You don’t have to get home to your dads?”
“Oh, I definitely should, but I don’t want to. I can deal with them tomorrow. This, tonight, it might be the only peace we get for a while.”
“We’ll let future us deal with the fallout.”
The idea of a future us makes my chest warm, but it’s nothing compared to when we climb into bed and wrap ourselves around each other.
I know a shitstorm is coming, but while I’m in Levi’s arms, the drama can wait.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
levi
I wake up to a hard cock pressed against my back and a warm breath in my ear.
“Question. Does anyone at school know where you live?”
I frown. “That’s not the sexy talk I was hoping for.”
Peyton laughs. “Hey, hot stuff. I really want to get you off, but it all depends on the answer to my question.”
“I mean, administration people would know, but I haven’t had anyone over other than you if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmm. The administration building is closed on weekends, isn’t it?” Peyton trails his hand down my stomach, but it hovers above the waistband of my boxer briefs.
“Why are you asking this?” And why is his hand not on my dick yet? It tents my already tight underwear, and I wriggle, trying to get him to enclose his fingers around my hard shaft.
He chuckles again. “I just needed to make sure my fathers’ threats about hunting me down to kick my ass aren’t actually viable. Seems not.”
I barely hear his words because finally—finally—he dips his hand inside my underwear and strokes me lazily.
Damn, it feels good. I reach behind me and hold the back of his neck. Peyton dips his head and kisses my shoulder while grinding his equally hard cock against my ass.
I want him to stroke faster, but as I push back and we move together, I decide to let it go. We’re in no rush, and somehow, this position feels more intimate than what we did last night. The way I can feel his breath on my skin, his hand caressing, stroking to make me feel good instead of trying to get me off as fast as possible, it’s like he’s inside me when he’s not. He surrounds me, embraces me, and those damn soft kisses along my shoulder send shivers down my spine.
“You going to come like this?” he whispers. “Because it’s not going to take me much to get there.”
“If you come, I’m going to. Suck on my neck when you’re close.”
Peyton begins stroking faster, done with taking his time. He grinds against me harder, and when he sucks on my skin hard enough to leave a hickey, I beat him to the punch and erupt all over his hand and in my underwear.
He stiffens a couple of seconds later, and even though he’s still wearing his underwear, the head of his dick must have popped out of the top because I can feel his release on my back.
Peyton moans and stills, burying his head at the back of my neck. “I don’t know what it is about rubbing off on you like that, but I fucking love it.”
“It’s probably the orgasm,” I say breathlessly.
He laughs against me. “Oh right. That.”
It’s not just that, though. “I think it’s because it’s the closest you can get to sex without having to be conscious of prepping and taking your time. It’s being in the moment and passionate and … yeah.” I smile. “I’ll stop rambling now.”
“It’s intimate,” Peyton says.
“Exactly. What’s the time?”
“Almost lunchtime. Weekends are the best. What do you say to cleaning up and then coffee before I need to face the music?”
I groan. “I don’t want to get out of bed.”
“I’ve got it.” Peyton jumps up and goes to my bathroom. The sight of his boxer briefs makes me pause.
“Are they my underwear?”
“I’m learning. Even though I didn’t know last night was going to happen, it must have been gut instinct to reach for the pair you gave me a few weeks ago. This way, I stop ruining my own.”
I want to argue, but I don’t have the fight in me.
He disappears into the bathroom, but I’m too wrung out to move. Then he’s back, naked, passing me a warm, damp cloth on his way to my drawers, where he helps himself to a pair of my sweats.
They’re tight, and he’s going commando, so his dick print is impressive.