The Boy on the Bridge Read Online Sam Mariano

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
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I cry out, throwing my head back against the couch.

I’m so wound up from all the foreplay, I’m surprised I don’t come at the first touch of his tongue, but it still only takes a few strokes until I’m crying out with pleasure, bucking my hips against his face.

Hunter grabs my hips and locks on, keeping his mouth on me until I can’t take it anymore and I literally beg him to stop.

Limp and sated, I let my legs drop and lay motionless against the couch, trying to catch my breath.

Hunter takes his seat on the couch, but he turns and stretches his legs out, then pulls me between them and wraps his arms around me.

I sigh, closing my eyes and sinking back against him.

I do love this movie, but I don’t care about watching it right now. I just want to soak up the feeling of Hunter holding me naked in his arms.

When the strength comes back to my lazy muscles and my heart is no longer racing, Hunter absently starts to play with my bare breast. “I won the game, by the way.”

I roll my eyes, letting my head fall back so I can look up at him. “What are you talking about? We quit playing.”

“Nope. The objective was to make you come before you finished the dishes using any means necessary. I never said the game ended if we left the room. You let me haul you out of the kitchen, so you definitely made it easier for me to win, but the game didn’t end until you came or the dishes were done. I won. I just took my prize before I won.”

“Sounds about right,” I mutter, but I can’t find it in me to complain about his victory.

Hunter chuckles and lets go of my boob, tightening his arms around my waist.

I smile and relax against him, and finally, we finish watching the movie.

___

It’s not that late when the movie ends, but since we both had school this morning, it has been a long day.

Hunter tells me to go get in bed and he’ll run downstairs and grab my things. I’m feeling as lazy as a sleepy kitten, so I do as he says.

I’m curled up under the blankets in the dark when his bedroom door opens. I can see his beautiful body bathed in moonlight as he hauls my bags in.

“You’re the sexiest bell boy ever,” I tease.

He smirks, dropping my bags and approaching the bed. “Bell boy, huh?”

I nod mischievously.

“Well, if I’m the bell boy, I’ll be expecting a tip.”

Clutching my heart and gasping playfully, I tell him, “Oh my, I don’t have any cash on me…”

Hunter gets on the bed and climbs right on top of me, even though I’m buried under blankets. “Then I guess you’ll have to find some other way of paying.”

“Mm, I guess I will,” I murmur, my arms naturally winding around his neck as he leans down to kiss me.

Hunter’s hands go to roam my body. When he remembers I have a blanket covering me, he rips it back and climbs under it with me so our skin can touch.

I sigh with pleasure as he starts to kiss my neck. I love feeling him on top of me, skin to skin. I push my fingers through his hair, closing my eyes and tilting my neck so he can drop kisses everywhere he wants to.

My blood starts to heat as he kisses my neck, desire for him building as I feel all of his hard places against all of my soft ones.

The way he styles his hair, I don’t see his scar very often, but since I’m playing with his hair now, I have it pushed back and I catch a little glimpse.

It’s right at that moment Hunter pulls back to look down at me, but whatever he meant to say dies on his lips.

His pleasure ebbs, replaced by fierce concern. “Why do you look sad?”

I attempt a smile and shake my head. “I’m not sad.”

He frowns, not seeming to believe me.

If the rougher sex I didn’t entirely want hadn’t happened after Sherlock kissed me, maybe Hunter would accept that and keep going now.

Since it did, he doesn’t.

He climbs off me and lies down on the bed beside me.

I feel bad that he stopped when I didn’t even want him to, but I don’t argue. Instead, I curl up close as he settles an arm around me.

“Did I do something?” he asks.

“No,” I assure him, splaying my hand over his heart. I press a kiss to the pectoral I can reach. “I love when you’re on top of me. I love when you kiss me.”

“Then what...?”

“It was nothing you did. I was playing with your hair, and I…”

I don’t really know how to explain the wisps of sadness that snuck into my heart when I saw that reminder of when someone had hurt him.


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