Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
It was strange talking to Patrick about things like this. I never would have let him in this way when we were younger, would have felt like it made me weak in his eyes or something. Back then, I’d thought he had everything—money, the perfect family—but he hadn’t—not the family part at least, and what the hell good did money do you if you didn’t have people around who showed they loved you? In that way, I’d been richer than him.
“I’m sorry that you lost him.”
“Yeah, me too,” I replied. “Wish he could have seen me…wish he knew how hard I’ve worked and what I became. I just want to make him proud. Want him to know I’m taking care of mom and my sisters—not that they need it, but yeah, I hope wherever the fuck he is out there, he knows.”
“He does,” Whitt replied. “I don’t know how I feel about what happens after we die, but he’s proud of you, and he knows you’re taking care of them.”
My mouth pulled into a smile, one that I couldn’t hold back, even if I wanted to. Fuck, I liked hearing shit like that from him, believed what he said because it was Patrick who said it.
“Did I ever tell you about Andre?” I asked.
His brows pulled together. “Who the hell is that?”
I clutched my stomach, laughing. “Clearly, we’re both jealous SOBs. Here.” I pulled up a photo on my phone and showed it to him.
“Cousin or something?”
“Nah. I do that big-brother type of program. I don’t get to see Andre as much as I’d like, but we hang out as often as we can. He’s a great kid. Fucking genius. I wish I had his brains, but yeah, part of me does that so I can be a Steven to someone else…”
“I…” He gave me the softest smile I had ever seen from him. “That’s incredible. I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah? First, you say my dad is proud of me, and now this. Damn, you’re sweet.”
“Fuck you,” he groaned, and then I was surprised when he lunged at me. We tumbled off the chairs and onto the concrete, wrestling each other. It wasn’t something I’d expected, so he got the best of me, Whitt on top of me, his boy next door smile shining through. He was so fucking different than anything I’d thought he would be.
“Gotta catch me off guard to beat me,” I threw his direction while I thrust up to try and buck him off, then rolled us so he was beneath me.
We went at it for a few minutes, rolling around, each of us giving as well as we could take, when we ended up in the grass, me on top of him again, holding down his arms. This time, Patrick didn’t move, just looked up at me, chest heaving in and out, the blue pools of his eyes locked on me, those perfect bow lips calling my name.
“Christ, I hate that you’re so fucking beautiful.” I leaned down and took his mouth. My tongue swept inside, Patrick opening up for me and inviting me in. My dick got hard, his cock firm against me as we rutted together in the grass, tongues tangling and hard bodies pressed together.
I loved that he nearly matched me, that he was almost as tall as me. Though not as broad and big, he still held his own in ways women or the other men I’d been with didn’t.
I kissed my way down his neck, then shoved my hand in his shorts, wrapping my fist around his dick and stroking him.
“Fuck.” He thrust up and into my palm.
“You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna shoot your load in your underwear because you want me so much? I’ll lick it all off my fingers like an appetizer before the main meal. You come now so later, when I take your ass, you can go all night.”
“Jesus!” He cried out, fucking my palm until his balls emptied. I rutted against him, fucked his leg like I couldn’t control myself. My body shot to the sky, then fell down again like dead weight when I came.
“You’re right. It does feel like cotton candy,” I said against his mouth, kissing him again before I licked my hand clean like I’d promised I would, Patrick’s gaze never leaving me the whole time. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
He looked as I sprung to my feet, then held my hand out to help him up.
Patrick took it without me even having to ask again.
13
WHITT
The Denver Rush’s starting center was in my house. He was in my house, and we were about to eat dinner like old friends or, worse, like lovers. Then he was going to fuck me. Malik Tucker had taken a flight from Denver to LA just to fuck me. Everything else—the dinner, the wrestling, the conversation—was like tissue paper wrapped around that fragile knowledge. I felt the anticipation and nerves with every beat of my heart but maintained a casual air as best as I could. There were a shit ton of other things to consider, like…that he was in my house in the first place. A hotel in LA had seemed too dicey, though. The high-end ones often had paps within easy reach, and the seedy ones…yeah, that wouldn’t work either. I’d rarely had anyone to my house since I’d moved here, aside from a woman I’d dated for a while. But that had been years ago. Shit, had I even had anyone I was dating or hooking up with here since? I was sure I had, but could recall nothing from the last two years, which just seemed kind of weird now.