Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
His lips quirk into a grin. “I know. Don’t worry—I’m not going to try anything.”
“I know,” I say, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind wants to ask why he seemed tense earlier, what that emotion was. But then he curves a palm around the back of my thigh, tugging me closer, and my questions scatter like alphabet soup. “Is this…part of how to kiss?” I ask.
He slides his palm higher, dangerously close to my ass. “A good kiss includes hands, Maeve.”
“Well then,” I say, then curl my hands around his shoulders and cover his lips with mine.
“Good girl,” he encourages, and fuck me.
He gives praise so confidently that my head swims with his woodsy scent, with the sound of his breath, with the feel of his strong hands.
Impulsively, I rock against the ridge of his erection.
He tenses for a second or two, like he’s battling with himself, but then I can feel a fuck it move through his body as he tugs a little harder on the back of my thighs.
Boundaries. What even are they? I’m off and running. With barely a thought. With only this ache between my thighs, this need in my body.
I kiss and grind, and it vaguely occurs to me I’m dry-humping my best friend.
But I don’t want to think too hard about what that means, because it feels so good, my belly is tightening, coiling, then…
Out of nowhere, an orgasm slams into me.
It grips my whole body, and I’m gasping, tensing, and then shuddering on my best friend’s lap.
I’ve gone off in less than a minute.
My mind crackles. My body turns white-hot and electric as I fall apart on my friend. My hundred-thousand-dollar date. My temporary husband.
When I pull away, I’m shocked. And honestly, embarrassed.
Asher looks stunned. In his wide eyes, his slightly parted lips.
I am too. “I didn’t see that coming,” I say, pun not intended.
After a surprised second or two, he says, “I didn’t either.”
My lips part. “Was that like a premature orgasm?” I ask, a little horrified, a lot embarrassed.
He grins. He can’t seem to stop smiling. It’s a very satisfied smile. “I didn’t even know that was a thing for a woman.”
“Me neither,” I squeak, and scurry off him.
I didn’t mean for this remember-how-to-kiss session to turn into how-to-come-in-under-sixty-seconds.
I cover my mouth with my hand, mortified that I shot off like that. I have no idea what to do.
“I’m going to shower,” I squeak, sounding like Minnie Mouse as I bolt.
16
QUICK-DRAW MAEVE
Asher
Not gonna lie—I feel like a king.
But a very confused king since I’m sitting here on the couch, brow scrunched, dick deflating, wondering what the hell just happened. Besides the obvious—Maeve used my hard-on as a fast-acting sex toy, and that was outrageously awesome.
But…what’s next?
I glance around the room, searching for answers in our open suitcases, or maybe in the empty champagne bottle from earlier. I peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the lights streaking by below, the city still buzzing at—what time is it? I check my watch. Holy shit. It’s three. A yawn hits me, along with the reminder that I’ve got a game on Sunday night back home. I need to head to San Francisco in several hours, then gear up to crush our opponents a day later. Which means it’s time for some shut-eye, but my brain’s too busy cycling through shouldn’ts.
I shouldn’t have kissed her.
I shouldn’t have played roulette.
I shouldn’t have…married her.
But strangely, I don’t feel regret for any of those. I don’t feel as frustrated as I did when we left the chapel. I feel good.
Of course you do, asshole. You gave the woman a screaming orgasm in world record time.
Well, great nights often end with orgasms.
Trouble is now I’m left sorting through the mess of my emotions. Part of me feels like I’ve won something, some secret, fleeting victory. But there’s also that nagging voice reminding me I’ve crossed a line I swore I wouldn’t.
But what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? She wanted to kiss, and we did. Now it’s time to move on.
I push up from the couch as the sound of the shower patters in the background. I tug off my Henley, strip out of my jeans, and run a hand through my hair. I plug my phone into the nightstand and drop onto the bed. A yawn threatens to pull me under, but I resist. I need to be awake when she comes out. We need to talk, clear the air, and maybe, just maybe, figure out where to go from here.
Hey Maeve, you cool with coming like a teenager on my denim-clad dick?
Because I was. And…do you want to ride my dick like a wild cowgirl again?
“Fuck,” I mutter, because I don’t know what the hell to do next. But the water shuts off, so I’ll have to figure it out, stat.