Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
His arm snaked under me, and he drove his thick dick home before he got up to his knees, taking me with him, and kept hold of me with an arm around my hips as his finger on his other hand went to my clit. He started working me there too as he resumed driving inside.
“Oh God,” I moaned, powerless to do anything but feel all the good he was giving me and fist my hands in the sheets, this being one part of many why this was so good. “Dair!” I cried out as my orgasm scoured through me.
His thrusts went faster and harder as I climaxed around his cock, whimpering into the bedclothes and trembling in his hold.
And even as I drifted down, my body jerking as I kept taking his cock, I got off on it. The sound of his grunts. Our flesh slapping together. His dick filling me, stretching me.
He went even faster before he slowed, groaned, and through his glides, he came inside me.
I got off on that too.
It was Friday.
We were in Dublin.
He had a match to call tomorrow.
And suffice it to say, considering Dair made me take frequent breaks with the heating pad, my back was all better.
He pulled me off him, rolled me to my back, and, starting just above the hair between my legs, he licked, sucked, nipped and kissed a line up my body, my throat, over my chin to my mouth where he kissed me deeply.
I so fucking loved this man.
And I was so fucking his good girl.
When he broke our kiss, he brushed our noses, then used his to slide along my jaw, before he asked in my ear, “Ye all right?”
“Do you mean my back?”
He lifted his head.
Before he could answer, I said, “Because you can’t mean me after you got me off while holding me up from the bed with only one arm and fucking me stupid. Because I’m totally okay with that.”
He smiled, there was only a little smugness, mostly it was just happy, and that made me happy, then he said, “Aye. I mean your back.”
“Hunky dory,” I told him.
“My Blake, wearing ponchos and saying shite like hunky dory.”
I pulled a face.
He smiled again.
I pulled a bigger face.
He started chuckling.
Ugh.
“Get off me, you big lug,” I demanded. “I need to go clean up.”
He didn’t get off me.
He kissed me again.
Only after he’d done a thorough job of that did he roll off and order, “Go clean up. If your back is okay, it’s time for round two.”
Really?
Nice.
With that promise, I didn’t waste time getting out of bed and going to the bathroom to clean up.
And then I didn’t waste time heading back for round two.
“We’re hashtag Blair.”
“What?” I asked, turning from the magazine I was reading on the plane from Dublin to Edinburgh to see Dair holding his phone my way.
“They gave us one of those mashup names. We’re hashtag team Blair.”
I took his phone from him and saw he was on TikTok.
It was silent, but on the screen was a talking head, and behind her was a picture of me on a horse, Dair standing next to it, holding the bridle.
I didn’t remember for certain, but I thought I was eight in that picture, which meant he was eleven.
We were at Treverton.
And we were smiling at the camera, probably because Kenna took that picture. And when we’d gone over the photos we were okay to release, I’d given Dair all kinds of shit at the proof he knew full well I liked horses, so he was just being a bratty boy when he was giving me shit about their Clydesdales.
But on his phone, this picture segued to a snap of us outside a café on one of the few sunny days we’d had lately. That café was in Clevedon, by the beach, and Hale was with us. We were all laughing, but Dair and I were sitting close. Making us closer, I was leaning into him, and he was taking my weight.
It was snapped by someone during our lunch.
And in the caption #TeamBlair could be seen.
I positioned myself in the seat so that Dair could see the phone. I then touched the hashtag which brought us to a grid of a number of videos, some of which you could see the childhood pictures that had been released, others were pictures of us at Edinburgh Airport, King’s Cross station, the lunch with Hale, in cars going to and from Treverton, me, Alex and Marlo sitting at the rugby match Dair was calling and Mum’s funeral. The most recent video on the grid being a picture of us touching lips before I’d folded into the car at the stadium not but hours ago. Dair was holding the back door of the car open for me.
Boy, Bally didn’t mess around.