Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I swipe my fingers through her juices and take myself in hand, smearing the mix of her come and my pre-come up and down my shaft. Her eyes never leave my cock as she watches me pump myself right above her pussy, bumping the head to her swollen clit every few strokes. Hell, I don’t think she even blinks, not wanting to miss a moment, which is sexy as fuck.
My whole life is complicated by the anxiety that consumes me when people watch me being vulnerable onstage. No matter how many times I tell myself it’s fine, that they like me and my music and aren’t going to boo me out of there for being a worthless piece of shit, I don’t believe it. I hide from them, from everyone.
But I want Hope to see me. I want her eyes, her attention, her mind . . . her pussy . . . right there beneath me . . .
I growl as I feel the explosion coming. I try to keep my eyes open, wanting to watch as I shoot white jets of come onto her body, marking her with every hot drop, but my lids close as my eyes roll back. She hasn’t even touched me and it’s the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.
I collapse over her, propping myself on an elbow to kiss her. As our kisses turn gentle, she starts to giggle, which is not exactly the post-orgasm response I was hoping for.
“Hope?”
She tries to cover her grin, but it’s reaching all the way to her eyes, making them sparkle, so it doesn’t work in the slightest. Plus, she’s in full-on giggle mode now.
“I’m sorry—I’m not laughing at you.” I raise a brow, not believing her. “I’m laughing at me because I think I’ve been doing sex wrong my whole life.” She waves her hands through the air and shakes her head. I can see the joy in her smile, the satisfaction in her body, and the bliss turning her blue eyes hazy and happy.
“Wait until I tell you that we haven’t even had sex yet,” I deadpan.
“It gets better, doesn’t it?” she asks, looking downright giddy.
I smirk, glad she’s not regretting what we’ve done. “It does, but you might need a minute after that.”
She mimes checking her watch, though her wrist is bare. “Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!”
Chapter 17
HOPE
Ben talks me into waiting by promising to make it worth my while, but I think he’s secretly trying to give me time to reconcile any feelings I might have about having sex with someone other than Roy. There’s no need to worry, though. I would’ve enthusiastically impaled myself on him this morning if I hadn’t been so mesmerized by watching him jack off—another thing I’ve never done before.
I had no idea that I’ve missed so much. And being with Ben only reaffirms that I made the right decision by running. Sure, I probably could’ve made a more graceful exit, but there’s no changing that now.
It’s not only the sex either. It’s Ben. His heart has been through more trauma than I can imagine, but somehow, he’s still generous with it, caring for me with an openness that inspires me to trust enough to reciprocate. The steady calmness of his soul calls to me too. I’m midcrisis now, and unfortunately keep getting him tied up in my messes, but usually, I’m the stable one in my life, saving Shep or Joy from themselves. Having someone at my side who doesn’t flinch from disaster but doesn’t chase drama brings a sense of balance, like he’s willing to do for me what I’ve always done for others. Once this whole wedding fiasco blows over, I think Ben and I could settle into something amazing.
If he were staying.
Nope, not gonna think about that. Not today, and not right now. I’m taking the gift of a day with him as an adventure I never dreamed I’d have.
“The plan is to explore downtown Maple Creek,” I tell him.
“Like any good tourist would do,” Ben replies.
Maple Creek’s downtown area is one of Mayor Haven’s pet projects. He’s worked for over a decade to get the town square rejuvenated with small businesses, hand-painted murals, public green space, and more. With all the visitors who come through town, it’s nearly always busy, too, and the new brick-paved sidewalks are full of people looking to shop, eat, or have a drink. Though I will definitely not be having anything stronger than a soda today.
“Ooh, you’ll love this place.”
I nearly drag Ben into a store called Spin Cycle. From the front, it appears to be a laundromat, but if you look a little closer, the washing machine graphics have vinyl records instead of windows. Inside, the floor is checkered with black-and-white linoleum, the walls are covered with band posters and neon lights, and there are laundry bins full of records, both vintage and new.