Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I come crying out his name just as he calls mine. Our voices meet, mingle, and meld, forming a symphony sweeter than any epic gaming track ever written and suddenly I have a brilliant idea.
“Sexy games for women,” I whisper into his ear as he lies on top of me, catching his breath.
He pulls back. “Like…interactive porn?”
“No, not like interactive porn. Like a sexy story line with feelings and challenges to overcome and a few different love interests. That way, you can play it several times with different outcomes. And there wouldn’t be one right answer or way to win. It would be more…choose your own adventure and see if you like it. And if not, you start again.” I bite my lip, the project becoming clearer with every passing second. “And there are subplots, too. Maybe the love interests have to solve a mystery together. Or a crime. Oh! Or there’s a serial killer on the loose and one of the love interests IS the serial killer, but you don’t realize that until it’s too late. And I code it so it’s not always the same character so fans can’t spoil the surprise!”
Sam frowns, but it’s his slightly cross-eyed thinking frown, not his “that’s weird” frown. “And it’s a different crime every season of the game.”
“And maybe we go back in time,” I add, so excited I’m squirming underneath him, making his still-semi-hard erection move in lovely ways inside me. “So, it starts out as a historic game, set in the 1800s or something and moves forward into the present day and then into the future if the series runs long enough. And all the characters are connected in a family tree.” I hum beneath my breath. “Which could get tricky if we have a serial killer on the loose trying to kill our main character, but I can figure that out in the world-building phase.” I point to the bedside table. “Grab me that pen and notepad, please? I need to make notes.”
“And I should dispose of the condom, even though all this wiggling you’re doing right now has my cock convinced we’re not finished yet.”
“Of course, we’re not finished,” I snort as he pulls out and rolls over to stand by the side of the bed. “We’re going to do that amazing thing again as soon as Mr. Raily is ready to go.”
“Mr. Raily?” he echoes with a grin that makes it clear he likes his cock’s new nickname as much as I like “peach.”
“Yes,” I say, reaching for the notepad and pen. “I’m just going to sketch out a few things while I’m waiting. And maybe steal some pretzels from your snack bar. I’m suddenly starving.”
“How about I order something from room service instead?” he asks as he moves into the bathroom to get rid of the condom and wash his hands. “It usually takes them about an hour to deliver.”
“Perfect,” I call back, scribbling away. “That should be just enough time to brainstorm, sex storm, and pick a movie to watch during dinner. Evie’s had us off our phones and all media during meals and I’m craving dinner and a movie. At the same time. With you.”
He reappears in the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “I like that last part. The ‘with me’ part.”
I cast him some judgmental side eye. “And I liked you better when you were naked.”
He rips the towel off and tosses it to the floor with a flourish that makes me laugh, announcing, “Done, milady. What else do you require of your loyal servant?”
Grinning, I say, “More kissing, for sure. And butt squeezes. I’m really into those.”
“Really?” he asks, crossing to the bed with slow deliberate steps that make me feel stalked in the best way. “That’s brilliant because I really enjoy squeezing your butt.”
Glancing up to see Mr. Raily back in action, I sigh and toss my notepad onto the floor by his discarded towel. “That works out, then, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” he says as he pushes me back onto the bed.
We kiss with our teeth bumping—a hazard of smiling while you make out, a thing I’ve never done before—and prove that some things are even better the second time around. It’s so good, in fact, that when the doorbell to the suite rings an hour later, I flinch and scoot farther under the covers, squeaking, “Who’s that?”
“The food,” Sam says, already tugging on his pants and undershirt.
I exhale. “Oh, right. I completely forgot about the food.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it. You can eat naked if you want. I certainly won’t complain.”
“Ew,” I say, grinning as he starts for the bedroom door. “No, I’ll eat clothed, thank you. But I’m wearing the swanky robe in the closet because it’s swanky and I’ve never been to a hotel that has robes before.”