Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Richard had been my prom date my senior year. We’d gone as friends, but when I’d made a move that night in the back of the limo, he hadn’t refused. Halfway into it, he’d explained we couldn’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret, he’d said. His embarrassment of me had been such a turn-off, I’d told him I’d changed my mind, and that his micropenis would be our little secret.
Surprisingly, Richard and I hadn’t spoken since that night.
Royce wasn’t nervous or shy. In fact, I’d been the one last time to demand we couldn’t tell anyone. It didn’t seem to bother him.
It was hard to move my hand inside his jeans. I grabbed the undone sides of his pants and tugged hesitantly. “Is it okay if I—”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Yeah.”
He slipped his hands under the waistbands, lifted his hips, and down everything went. As I gazed at his nakedness, I sensed his gaze burning right back into me. He was curious what my reaction would be, and I was . . . just curious. Tan legs gave way to lighter thighs in an ombre effect.
He was beautiful like this.
“Hmm, okay,” he said, grinning widely as I moved off the couch and onto my knees before him.
“It seems like it’ll be easier this way.”
His eyes were electric. “Please know I’m not complaining.”
I smiled as I used both hands to grip him. “Are two hands okay? Or too much?”
He sucked in an enormous breath, but his words were still tight with satisfaction. “No, that’s good.”
Since his pants were down around his ankles, it made it difficult to kneel right between his legs, but it was better than leaning awkwardly over him. I stroked both hands together from tip to base, and back up again.
“Tighter, if you can,” he said softly. I clamped my hands and dragged my fists down. He groaned and tipped his head back. “Fuck. Atta-girl.”
Oh, my God. I snickered. I was on my knees with a guy I didn’t really know, his dick was in my hands, and I wasn’t sure what I was doing. This was supposed to be awkward. Or hot and heavy. It wasn’t supposed to be intimate like this or enjoyable in this way. His easy, supportive attitude gave me the confidence to keep going.
His hips moved subtly with the tempo of my hands, but his chest? That moved much faster. He sighed and shuddered as I twisted my hands. I wrung a moan from his lips when I let one hand drift lower and explore, cupping him. His hands were splayed on the couch cushions, but they curled into fists as I worked him over.
I’d thought the sight of his finger sliding inside me was hot, but this? Him throbbing in my hands as I stroked him, all while he struggled to hold in his moans, was lightyears beyond that sexy scene. It forced me to squeeze my knees together, and an aftershock of pleasure shot through my center.
“Faster.” The word from him danced the line between an order and a desperate plea.
I picked up my rhythm. Dark satisfaction sped through me as he lost the battle and a loud, deep groan slipped past his restraint. He seemed to like it went I paid attention to the tip, so I brushed my thumb over the head, swirling around the drops of moisture there.
He said it as a warning. “Keep that up and you’re gonna make me come.”
I stared up at him. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”
He jerked in my grasp. “Fuck, Marist.” His smile was brilliant. “Did I create a monster when I asked you to wait?”
I slowed to a stop, letting him pulse in my grip. “I thought I already was. You said I was Medusa.”
“Wait.” His face went blank and his body tense.
I was stunned he was being indecisive about my offer, but I was even more shocked when he abruptly stood and yanked at his pants. The action knocked me backward, and I fell on my ass with a hard thud. I glared up at him, but he ignored me. Instead, he hurried to do up his zipper and refasten his belt.
I hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, but the abrupt knock on Royce’s door was loud and short.
It was the only warning we got. I had just enough time to turn and see the door swing open, revealing Macalister Hale standing in the hall.
NINE
ROYCE WAS TWENTY-FIVE, but age didn’t seem to matter when he was being caught by a parent. He sank onto the couch, snatched up a throw pillow, and set it in his lap to cover his erection.
Abandoned on the floor, I scrambled to my feet, and my face flamed to a million degrees. So much for protecting me. Yes, I had all my clothes on, but it was obvious what we’d been doing the moment before his father appeared.