Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He stares down at me and reaches for his belt buckle. “Fuck yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryder
I watch as Lyric takes out my cock, slips it between his lips, and sucks on the head. Ripples of need travel down my shaft and into my balls. Tingles break across my skin, making me shudder.
Lyric smirks up at me with hooded hazel eyes. I never knew it was possible to only smile with your eyes until this moment.
While he sucks me down, he reaches back and pulls out his hair tie, letting the loose waves cascade over his shoulders.
This fucker doesn’t play fair.
I play with the long blond locks, twining them in my fingers and gripping the back of his head.
Fuck, he’s good with his mouth.
Kissing me.
Sucking me.
The wet heat on my cock makes my thoughts fuzzy before my mind goes blank.
He’s on a mission to get me off, opening his throat and taking me all the way so he can go home to his brother’s house, but I want to make it last. I don’t want him to leave.
Holy shit.
I don’t ever want him to leave.
The pressure surrounding my cock is too much. My thoughts are too much.
My entire body tenses, as I release into his mouth, pushing my dick between his lips over and over again until there’s nothing left.
The high gives me loose lips.
“Move in with me,” I blurt out.
His gaze shoots to my face so fast my softening cock falls from his mouth. “What?” His voice is thick from having a dick down his throat.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.” We can’t be there already, can we?
Lyric leans back on his heels and wipes his mouth. “Did you mean it?”
“I …” Shit, I don’t know. On one hand, everything with us is easy, and I already feel like he’s part of my family, and Kaylee loves him, and I … I think I could love him.
But on the other hand, that’s a lot. That’s a big step. And we haven’t been together long.
He stares up at me expectantly, my cock is still out, and I think I’ve fucked everything up.
“Okay, so …” I try to explain.
“It was said in the heat of the moment. Got it.”
“No. I mean, well yes, it was, but I want it. I really, really, really want it even if it scares me.”
Lyric smiles. “We can work out our fears together. My daddy issues and your commitment issues.”
“We’d be a therapist’s wet dream.”
“We could fund their round-the-world vacations.” He stands. “I should go.”
I move to tuck myself away.
Lyric’s uncertainty radiates from him as he stands and holds his head low, and I want to reassure him somehow, but I don’t know how to do that.
Blurting out major life changes after a blowjob is not the way to do it.
We reach the front door, and I squeeze his hand to get him to turn to me. “I know things are weird right now, and I shouldn’t have asked you like that. Maybe it’s too soon to talk about you moving in, but I want you to know I did mean it. If you want to make it happen, I’m on board.”
Lyric leans in and kisses me sweetly. “How about we talk about it when your dick isn’t in my mouth and we’re not in this weird place?”
I can’t help feeling a teeny tiny bit disappointed he’s not jumping at the chance, even if it makes complete sense not to rush this or use this to put a Band-Aid on our situation.
He huffs. “And here I thought you were ready to run.”
“Not running. The thought might’ve crossed my mind a few times when you haven’t been here or I’ve tried to visualize what a future even looks like with you, but when you’re with me, we fit together and everything’s good. It feels right, and I’m never letting go of that.”
Lyric leaves with a smile, and while his future in music is uncertain, his future with me is a little bit closer to being exactly the type of relationship I never thought I’d have.
Not since having Kaylee.
I’m in my office, deep in concentration, trying to figure out why I hate the brat’s singles.
I listen for every twinge in his voice, every imperfection, and wonder if I’m picking it apart because I hate him or if I’m being my usual pedantic self.
My phone lights up, and the caller ID is a welcome surprise.
Since Eleven broke up, our old manager Cameron Verikas has gone on to manage some amazing acts. When we split in different directions, he said he didn’t want to represent any one of us. It was all or none because he said it would feel like picking between his children.
I hit Answer on the phone. “Hey, Cameron. Long time no hear.”
“What’s happening, kid?” His voice is warm like it always was.