Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Eventually, I give in, reach underneath the covers, and give myself a lovely orgasm. Normally, I’d need my trusty vibrator to reach the finish line. But I didn’t bring it with me, so I don’t have a choice. Although, even if I had it with me, there’s no way I’d use it and risk Caleb overhearing that tell-tale hum.
To my surprise, my fingers accomplish the task, pretty easily, for the first time in a very long time. And shortly after that small victory, I’m finally able to shut down my brain enough to drift off to sleep.
Something awakens me. A low creak of a sound. I open my eyes to early morning sunlight peeking through my window. There it is again. Did someone take a step across a loose floorboard in the hallway? Was that Caleb . . . or someone else? Is Ralph Beaumont here?
My heart stampeding, I look around, feeling disoriented and panicky, and quickly decide I must have dreamed the sound. Except, no, there it is again, and I’m now wide awake. Shit. That wasn’t a floorboard creaking. That was definitely Caleb from across the hallway. Was he groaning or wincing in pain? Throwing up, maybe?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I just realized I didn’t check Caleb’s backpack when I did my sweep last night, which means he could have smuggled in drugs or booze, without my knowledge; and now, for all I know, he’s overdosing and choking on his own vomit across the hallway.
In a frenzy, I lurch out of bed and barrel into the hallway, and when I hear the pained groan from Caleb again, I rap on his closed door and call out his name.
“Aubrey,” he chokes out in reply, his strained tone making it clear he’s in some kind of distress. Without hesitation, I swing open Caleb’s door and take two steps inside the room, worried I’m going to find him seizing and frothing at the mouth. But, instead, I get an eyeful of something totally unexpected: Caleb, fully naked on his bed, his extremely large, and very hard, dick in his extremely large hand.
“Aubrey,” Caleb groans out again, his eyes shut tight and his features contorted.
Quickly, I flee the room and carefully shut the door behind me, praying he was too distracted to notice my presence in his doorway. Back in my room, I stuff in my earbuds, click play on my “favorites” playlist on my phone, and try to drown out the sounds of Caleb’s groans. Unfortunately, however, the second random song that comes up is “Shaynee” by Red Card Riot. Their smash-hit debut single. The song that first introduced Claudia to the band when we were in middle school, which then prompted her to introduce the band to me.
Crap. The sounds of Caleb’s crashing drums on the track makes me think of Caleb’s muscled body. His hard dick in his huge hand. The sound of my name lurching from his tortured, groaning lips.
Fucking hell.
I should change the song.
Right away.
I really should.
But instead, I listen to the whole damned thing, three times through, while touching myself during the second cycle and making myself come during the third, the same way I did in the middle of the night. Two orgasms in a matter of hours? It’s a record for me.
When I’m done pleasuring myself, I pull an earbud out and listen for any signs that Caleb is still jerking off. But the house is silent, the only sounds coming from the lake and the breeze outside.
I throw on some clothes and head to the bathroom. Thankfully, Caleb’s door is still closed when I pass by, which I’m hoping means he drifted off to sleep after getting himself off.
From the bathroom, I head into the kitchen, where I make myself some jam and toast from the few supplies we brought over from my parents’ house last night. I’m pretty sure Caleb didn’t notice me bursting into his bedroom, so at least there’s that. But, still, Caleb not knowing what I witnessed doesn’t mean I didn’t witness it. And, unfortunately, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to eradicate that insanely hot image from my mind.
Movement in the doorway catches my attention. It’s Caleb striding into the kitchen in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt.
“Good morning, babysitter.”
“Good morning, babysittee. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby who’s being babysat.” He chuckles. “You?”
“Not great. But I never sleep well in a new place.”
He indicates the half-eaten toast and jam sitting on my plate. “That looks good. Where’s the bread?”
“You want the rest of mine? I took a couple bites and realized I’m not hungry.”
“You sure?” When I nod, Caleb plops into a chair across from me, slides my plate to him, and takes a huge bite of toast. “Is it too early to FaceTime your dad to show him around the house? I’d love to get his take on what the place needs.”