Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“No, I want you.”
Theo shucked off the rest of his clothes, then moved to the nightstand and popped open the bottle of lube. He poured some on his fingers before lying on the bed with his legs spread. He pushed one digit inside his hole on a long, low groan.
My cock strained against my zipper as I kicked my shoes off and undressed in record time, throwing my shirt to my left, my jeans to my right. I probably looked like a crazed cartoon character. I didn’t care. I was one thousand percent focused on suiting up and getting inside him.
Three fingers of his left hand teased his pucker while he jacked himself with his right. I grazed my thumb along his inner thigh and watched the show.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Mmm.” He smiled dreamily and scrambled to sit up.
“Whoa. Don’t go anywhere,” I growled. “I want to see you.”
I leaned on one arm, lined my dick at his hole, and eased inside.
We’d only been doing this for a month but damn, we were good at sex. We had the give-and-take down to a science. I knew the perfect angle to hit his prostate, and I knew he liked a little edging. He also liked it hard and fast once we got going.
I could read his body the way I wished I could read his mind, but I was greedy tonight. I wanted this to be amazing…unforgettable.
If we only had this, I’d make sure it was so good, he’d never forget about me.
So I gave him everything I had.
I surrounded him, caging his head between my hands as I moved…slow and steady. I quickened the pace when he arched his back and wrapped his legs around my waist, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. I usually kept it a little dirty. You know… “Such a sweet hole. So tight. So fucking good.” That kind of thing.
Tonight, I almost gave myself away, saying shit like, “I love this sweet hole. You love my dick? Tell me you love it.” Love.
Love, love, love. I couldn’t seem to stop saying it.
I rocked my hips faster…then faster still, pressing kisses along his jaw as the bedsprings squeaked and protested with a rhythmic thump, thump, thump. He held on, burying his face in my neck. When I slipped my hand between our sweat-slicked torsos and gripped him, I knew he wouldn’t last.
He shuddered as he came, shooting jizz over my fist and onto his stomach. He had my cock in a vise hold so tight I had no choice but to join him. I slammed into him over and over, chanting a whole lot of nonsense. I had a very real fear that in my mindless state I’d added another “love” sentiment, but I couldn’t hear over the rush of blood pulsing through my body.
I fell limp and lifeless on top of him. It took me a moment to gather the strength to disengage. I propped myself on my elbows when he let out an “oomph.”
“Sorry, babe. I—”
My heart stopped at the sight of a single tear cascading down Theo’s cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb and kissed him. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t ask why he was sad. I didn’t ask if he was hurt. I knew those answers. I knew we were feeling the same gut-wrenching sense of imminent loss. The difference was that I’d been pretending to be immune to emotions for years.
Yes, I wanted to fucking cry too. I wanted to beg him to stay. I wanted to—
“I love you,” he whispered.
Fuck.
I gathered him close and rolled to my side, resting my chin on his head as tears welled. I kissed his hair and caressed his shoulders. I didn’t speak, though. I couldn’t.
I wasn’t brave like Theo.
I didn’t know how to say those words, knowing I’d already lost him.
11
Theo
Joanne organized a going away party the day before my flight home. She invited Clive and Becca, a couple of the local shop owners I’d befriended, and a handful of our regular customers for an appetizer, wine, beer, and fairy cake send-off. She made a sign for me and hung it above the register: “Cheers to the Fairy Cake Prince.” She’d even bought me a crown and fairy wings.
I’d squealed like a kid, happily setting the crown on my head and pulling the wings over my shoulders. It was beyond silly, but I didn’t care.
According to Scott, I looked like an angel. His exact words were, “A beautiful fucking fairy angel.”
I felt more like Cinderella, knowing this was all about to evaporate. I sipped my wine and stole glances at Scott chatting with Becca across the shop. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. In basic jeans and a blue oxford shirt, he reminded me more of a rugged lumberjack at Sunday dinner than a baker, I mused, doing my best to follow the conversations around me.