Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I got your picture,” he says, breaking the silence between us. My wet hair drips beads of water onto my chest and he leans forward to catch a drop that rolls down my sternum with his tongue. When his tongue hits my skin, every nerve ending tingles, my skin prickling with goosebumps. “Was someone missing me?” He circles my nipple with the tip of his finger, light as a feather.
“You’re such an asshole,” I snap, hitching a leg over his, my knee resting on the mattress.
“But you want me anyway.” He makes quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them just low enough to pull himself out, already thick and hard. I bring my other leg up, straddling his lap, not wanting to prolong this for another second. Jess’ hands find my hips as I lower myself onto him, sliding down his length.
“Fuck,” he rasps, sounding pained, and my head falls back at the sensation.
“Six days is too long to go without this,” I breathe, holding onto his shoulders for support.
“I’ve created a monster,” he says, his voice taunting as he flexes his hips upward. “Tell me you missed me.”
“No.”
“Your pussy did,” he says, tugging my earlobe between his teeth. “Missed me so much it’s crying for me.”
I feel myself clench around him and he groans, squeezing my ass, and before I know what’s happening, he’s flipped us around so I’m on my hands and knees. I look over my shoulder to see him fetch a condom from the drawer and roll it on, tossing the wrapper onto the floor.
At least one of us is thinking clearly.
Jess pushes between my shoulder blades until my chest is flat against the mattress, angles my hips upward, then slides into me from behind. I lurch forward with a gasp, not expecting how intense it would be like this.
“Get back here,” he says, yanking my hips until my ass is flush against his pelvis. He holds me in place as he fucks me, my hands fisting the sheets, eyes squeezed shut.
“It’s so deep,” I mumble into the mattress.
He covers my body with his, his hands covering the backs of my own. “Not deep enough.”
I feel his lips on the back of my neck, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to mine as he pumps his hips into me. I feel myself tightening around him as he slides in and out, over and over.
“Fuck, I need to come,” Jesse says as he snakes a hand underneath me, rubbing my clit as he picks up the pace.
Oh my God. Just like that, I’m contracting around him, unable to stop from grinding into his hand, my clit pulsing under his fingertips. Once I slow my movements, Jesse sits up, fucking my boneless body until I feel him jerking inside me.
He pulls out of me, and I hear him dispose of the condom before he crawls back into bed behind my spent body, both of us lying across the bed horizontally, too tired and sated to right ourselves. His arm curls around me, cupping my breast, his chin resting above my head, and it only feels like seconds before I succumb to sleep.
* * *
JESSE STAYED IN MY ROOM last night, even though Dare and Lo were home. We’re getting sloppy. Careless. But something has shifted, and I think we both feel it.
“That thing happening tonight?” Jess asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. I look over at his profile, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand pushing through his hair. He insisted on driving me to school this morning, which is a first.
“Yep,” I say, surprised he remembered the show.
Jess pulls into the parking lot, cutting the engine before getting out. He rounds the hood of the truck and then he’s at my door, opening it for me.
“What are you doing?” I ask warily.
“Walking you to class.”
I stay in my seat, momentarily stunned that he’s not just dropping me off, and Jesse reaches across my lap to unbuckle my seatbelt. I raise an eyebrow at him.
“What’s with the boyfriend act?”
“I’m walking you to class, not asking you to go steady. Chill.”
I hop down, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I make my way toward campus, binder in hand. Jess falls into step next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder, bringing me in close.
What has gotten into him?
Once we get close to the courtyard where students are milling around, we get a couple of curious looks and double takes, but Jesse either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t acknowledge it. Straightening my posture, I hold my binder at my chest, Jesse’s bruised knuckles hanging over my shoulder.
“Shepherd!” a gruff voice calls out.
Jess stops short at the sound of his name. When we turn around, it’s to see a middle-aged man in a white polo with a red Wildcats logo.