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)
It’s the hottest show I’ve ever seen. I groan in appreciation.
When she’s done, she pops her lips and asks innocently, “Like that?”
I look at my dick. A drop of pre-come forms at the tip, my dick showing its appreciation too. “That’ll do,” I deadpan.
Then I slide my hand down my cock, lubing it up with her and me. When I’m done, I settle between her tits, pressing my hands against the outsides of them. Like that, I hold on tight as I fuck the valley between them, gripping them like they’re her hips. A few thrusts, a couple pumps, and pleasure is roaring down my spine, frying my brain and destroying any last bit of reason.
I paint her tits with my release as she cries out yes, almost like she’s as turned on as I am. Not sure that’s possible. Not sure anyone has ever felt like this. My whole body is shaking.
My vision blurs. My brain goes offline. I can’t catch my breath. My entire world is reduced to pants, moans, and aftershocks. When the last one jolts through me, I finally register the perfect mess I’ve made of Maeve’s tits. She’s covered in my come. It’s such a good fucking look. I want to rub it all over her chest, mark her with me. But I should check in with her first. She’s tied up after all. I raise my face and take in the flush on her cheeks, her wild hair, her excited eyes. And her arms stretched above her head, straining against the knots of my ties. “Let me undo them,” I say, recovering my senses. “And then I’ll clean you up.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t undo them?”
“Don’t clean me up.”
She is the lottery. And if all I get is one night like this where we bend the rules, I will take it and savor it. I will hold onto it forever. I quickly undo the ties, kiss her right wrist, then do the same to the left.
When I lift my face, Maeve’s hands are already busy, spreading my climax all over her breasts. “I’m painting myself with your come,” she says.
That’s it.
She needs another orgasm. “Rules are rules. You need three-to-one orgasms.”
“I can’t handle five more orgasms,” she laughs.
“Have it your way. But we need to be even.”
“Says who?”
“I say.” My tone brooks no argument.
“I had one in Vegas, and you had none there. We’re even.”
I grab the Rabbit. “Not for long. Can I fuck you with this?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
A minute later, she’s coming again, and it’s a sound I’m already addicted to. I head to the bathroom and grab a washcloth to clean her up.
Sometime later, she’s in her cami and a pair of sleep shorts, and I’m in giraffe boxer briefs. We get back in bed, and there’s a moment, maybe several, where everything’s awkward under the covers.
Where I fear she’ll want to lay down rules.
Or say that can’t happen again.
Hell, she’ll probably say it tomorrow.
But for tonight, all I want is to sleep next to my wife. I preempt her, striking first as I tug her into my arms. “Let’s just go to sleep, okay, honey?”
The implication is clear—I can’t talk about this right now.
Don’t hurt me right now.
Don’t tell me that was a mistake right now.
“Okay,” she says softly.
And like she promised the first night we spent together three weeks ago, she’s out in seconds. I’m not. I never am. When the world goes still, my mind whirs too fast, replaying the day, or shooting ahead to the next one, reviewing problems I need to solve, things I have to deal with. This time is a little different though. I’m wide awake in the dark, but I feel more peaceful than I usually do. I’m smelling Maeve’s sweet plum perfume, touching her soft skin, dreaming of more nights like this.
But knowing they may not come.
I’m tempted, so damn tempted to grab my phone and google—what to do when you’ve fallen in love with your best friend.
I’m not sure Doctor Google will have an answer I like.
Because there’s no way this can end well for us. Relationships never end well for me—they always end.
But even if I weren’t broken, even if romance weren’t radioactive, there are never any guarantees. Something will always go wrong. Something will always break. And I hate when things spiral out of my control. I hate it more than anything. I don’t even know what to do when shit starts falling apart.
Hockey’s different. It’s unpredictable, yes. But when I play hockey there are always solutions. Find a new opening, skate faster, fight for the puck harder, chase it farther. Achieve.
But life isn’t a game played in three periods on an oval two hundred feet long and eighty-five feet wide. The outcomes are too varied, too unpredictable, too permanent.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.