Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Well. Only when the battery dies mid-masturbation.
Hate that. We call that a fail.
But today I’m in luck because not only is the vibrator fully charged, Jack seems to know how to use it on me, finding the sweet spot between my legs and holding it there.
Lowering his head, he sucks on my nipple at the same time, and the sensations melt my entire body from the inside out.
God, it feels better than his dick did—and that’s saying a lot because his dick feels incredible. Still, vibrators and other kinds of foreplay have their moments, and this is one of them.
I watch as he plays with me, the fire between my legs only intensifying, wanting to come but also: not wanting it to be over so soon since our initial screwing lasted, oh—about three minutes.
Jack licks.
Jack sucks.
Jack applies more pressure with the blue wand, moving it slightly to the left. Up. Down. More toward the middle of my clit, it’s so incredibly sensitive and feels so incredibly amazing that I moan out loud.
I don’t care how loud it is. I am going to have an orgasm, dammit! And if Jack Jennings moves that vibrator or stops using it, he is a dead man.
Everything is so sensitive.
So good.
So…so, “Ohhh..!”
Jack’s mouth leaves my breasts so he can kiss me, the intoxicating way our tongues mingle sends me over the deep end, waves of pleasure shooting through my body as the orgasm hits me hard.
So, so sensitive.
So, so good.
I lie there afterward as he flops down next to me, lips on my shoulder.
I can feel him smile and I?
Smile too.
In the morning, I wake up alone, and my smile has faded into a frown.
Jack is so busy—this dashing back and forth between states and cities isn’t sustainable—not in the long run. He’s having fun now, and he loves seeing Skipper and spending time with us, but it’s so much work.
And so much money.
A pit forms in my stomach as I roll over to grab my phone off the nightstand. I check the time and breathe out, staring up at the ceiling.
He’s right. We can’t keep doing this.
All the back and forth, there and back?
He can do it, but I cannot.
I have a job, would like to finish my degree so I can get ahead, and a daughter in school…I can’t date someone that far away, no matter how flexible he’s pretending to be, whenever he chooses.
He’ll have the off-season, though. There’s that…
Right, but the off-season is only four weeks.
Four.
Big whoop.
See, this. This right here is the reason I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Jack when I knew he was going to be drafted into the NFL. The travel and the go-go-go and him moving from our home state to…wherever the team is that he signed with.
If you’d been in a relationship with him and stayed, you’d be with him in Colorado and not here, my rational self argues. You wouldn’t have to decide if you were going to move—you would already be living together. Maybe we’d even have more kids.
Always rational.
Always worried.
I always play it safe.
I can’t help it, that’s part of who I am, and I won’t apologize for it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it hasn’t bitten me in the ass more than a few times.
My pregnancy obviously being the big, glaring one.
A job offer I turned down because I didn’t have a degree and therefore didn’t think I had the qualifications - even though they offered it to me.
Dating a few nice, stable men because in the back of my mind, I was always hoping somehow, someday, Jack would return to my life.
Okay so that last one has nothing to do with playing it safe and everything to do with me being scared and being used to being alone.
Single, not ready to mingle.
A single mother who went to bed dreaming of a boy she left behind, wondering what he was like as a grown man.
And now I know.
And now I have to decide—again—what to do.
Chapter 19
Jack
My flight home is pensive; I can do nothing but think about the distance between Penelope, Skipper, and I, nor can I be the one to pack up and move across the country and resettle myself to spend more time with them.
I mean—I could. Plenty of guys do it who play football, baseball, or any other professional sport. In the off-season, so many of my buddies live in different states.
I wonder how Penelope would feel about that as an option?
I wonder how she would feel about being closer, period.
I want them to move in with me.
I want to have my family together.
Glancing over at the clock, I turn my head and my muscles throb. Today’s meeting went longer than I’d hoped, a pitch for a sport drink company that wants to give me three million dollars per year to drink that shit in public for four years.