Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Skin. Skin would be good. But when I reached for his sweater, my cast got in the way, and while my left hand was decent at skimming over his sides and back, it lacked the sort of dexterity necessary for complicated clothing removal shenanigans.
I made a frustrated noise. “I’m not sure how to do this.”
“It’s okay, Tenn.” Tate soothed me with a sweet little forehead kiss as he swept his thumb over my bearded jaw. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I’m ready.” I groaned, more frustration seeping into my tone. “I mean with our casts. They keep getting in the way.”
“Agreed. But I’m rather…handy one-handed.” Eyes sparkling, he made a jerk-off motion with his left hand.
“Goof.” I laughed even as my dick throbbed. Yeah. That. I wanted his hands all over me, my cock very much included. “I think I’m ready to show you my bed.”
“Are you?” Tate bounded off me and offered me a hand out of the recliner before following me to my bedroom. He waited patiently while I flipped on the light, which suddenly seemed far too bright for the small space. My double bed was neatly made with a gray comforter set, and the only other furnishing in the room was a secondhand nightstand with a goose-neck lamp. “Nice bed.” Tate remained way too close to the door, regarding me through cautious eyes. “Is that all you want to show me?”
“No.” All my nerves came rushing back. I fiddled with the edge of my fuzzy sweater. Skin. I wanted his skin and mine touching, preferably on the bed, but getting there seemed like a huge leap. “I want to do things too. Not just show.”
I glanced up at the overhead light, praying for guidance to sound less like a teen virgin and more like the professional I was. I could be so well-spoken in court and yet so out of my depth here.
Thankfully, Tate finally took pity on me and entered the bedroom. He flipped off the big light before turning on the bedside lamp and pointing the beam down at the floor, giving the room a dusky glow. Not dark, but not nearly so overwhelming either.
“That better?”
“Yes, thank you.” I met him halfway, pulling him close, putting all my relief and desire for him to lead into my kiss. I gave a contented sigh when he did exactly that, taking over the kiss until my thoughts were pleasantly jumbled again. Drunk on kisses and without the harsh light, undressing seemed far more manageable, especially with Tate leading the way.
My curiosity over his body overcame my own insecurities. I might be skinny and pale, but Tate was worthy of all the admiration—thick, surprisingly fuzzy chest, dark nipples, beefy biceps, and lean abs. A tattoo graced his upper right pec, and I gasped.
“Is that a stick of dynamite?”
Chuckling, he glanced down at his thick and heavy cock. “Pretty sure it’s just average—”
“I meant your tattoo.” I reached out to touch the design featuring a popular cartoon character getting ready to light the dynamite. “You got a TNT tattoo?”
“I did.” His face darkened, a rare blush, as he glanced away. “I always was the reckless one.”
“I love it.” I dropped a reverent kiss onto the tattoo. Maybe he was right, and this thing between us was simply meant to be. Destiny.
I kissed his mouth next, and he kissed me back with a new intensity. He toppled us both gently onto the mattress, solving my question of how to make it to the bed. Looming over me, he gazed down tenderly.
“God, you’re so hot. How did you get so hot?”
“Hey, I’m wondering that too.” I laughed and touched his tattoo again.
“We can kiss all night.” He dropped a light peck on my nose before claiming my mouth again. “Heck, simply cuddling would be awesome.”
“You’re sweet.” Smiling, I kissed him back. “But I do want…more. Just not sure what. Not a lot of…imagination.”
“I’ve got you, Tenn.” He touched me lightly all over—my beard, then my collarbones, each nipple, my quivering abs, and at last, my aching cock.
“Yes.” I stared down my torso at my cock in his hand. Tate’s hand was big and broad and utterly perfect. My hips jerked upward, not waiting for permission. “Oh yes.”
“Easy.” Tate loosened his grip right before I was about to shoot on the second pass of his hand. “Not yet. I’m trying to go slow here.”
“Go fast instead,” I begged.
“How do you do it when it’s just you?” he asked conversationally as if inquiring about the snow forecast.
I made an impatient noise. “I haven’t managed to jerk since breaking my wrist.”
“Poor baby.” He tortured me with more feathery touches along my cock, not nearly enough to make me come, but plenty to drive me crazy.
“But when I can jerk, it’s always my right hand, usually with lotion.” My face heated. I couldn’t believe I was revealing all this. “I’m pretty boring.”