Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Definitely dinner. As long as there’s no singing, dancing, or … cheese wheel races, I’m all for it.”
Whit stares at me as if I gave him the wrong answer again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did you want me to say no? Is it too late to change my answer?”
“It’s not that. For a second … I thought, maybe …” Whit climbs off me, and we shift around so we’re both sitting up.
“Thought what?” Are we about to have a serious conversation completely naked and covered in cum?
“Just … something Ian said back at the bar, but never mind.”
“You can tell me.”
“He said a straight-guy warning sign is that you’d refuse to go out in public with me, so—”
“So when I said no to the cheese wheel thing, you assumed it was because I don’t want to be seen with you or look like your date.” I reach for his hand. “It’s not that at all, I promise. How about this. On Tuesday, you come to my place after classes, and I’ll take you to dinner. I’ll hold your hand and everything. I’ll walk down the street telling random strangers, ‘This is my date.’”
Whit laughs. “You don’t have to go that far, but are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”
“I was fine with it at your game. And in front of your parents. I literally just kissed you in a bar in front of everyone I work with.”
“Mm. True. Ignore me.” He lowers his head.
“It’s okay to have insecurities because this is new, and we’re still feeling our way, but you can ask me about anything and call me out if you think I need it, okay?”
“Okay.”
I’m not entirely sure I believe him, but he makes me want to do better.
I want to make him happy.
Sundays quickly become my new favorite days. Since I’ve started working at the bar full-time, I’ve gotten more of a set work schedule, so I only fill in at the bookstore if someone’s sick or is on vacation.
As soon as Whit’s hockey season ends, and he doesn’t have weekday practices anymore, we easily fall into a routine where he stays over on a Tuesday or Wednesday. He usually leaves in the morning before I’m lucid, and I’ll sleep through him sneaking out before the sun has even begun to think of rising.
But on Sundays, I get to wake up to Whit’s mouth on my skin or his lower half moving against mine. Or both. Like right now.
Whit kisses along my collarbone while his hard-on drags along the outside of my thigh.
I’m mostly still asleep, in that semiconscious state where I don’t know if I want to wake up all the way or not.
“What time is it?” I complain. “Your farm-boy body clock is dumb and—”
His hand dips into my boxer briefs and wraps around my dick.
“Awesome. Your body clock is awesome.”
Whit chuckles against my neck and then maneuvers himself on top of me. His hard cock drags along mine.
“Good morning,” he rumbles.
“Mm, I’ll say.”
We’re all lazy kisses and slow, languid movements until we can’t take it anymore and scramble to pull our underwear down enough for us to grind against one another in a rush to get off.
When we’re a heap of exhausted muscles and both covered in cum, I rasp, “Sunday mornings with you are the best. They’re my own version of going to church.”
“You do call out God’s name a lot, so there’s that.”
“But …” I roll us over so I’m on top. “The Maple Festival is on this weekend, and I was thinking we could drive up to St. Albans. They have a pancake breakfast and sugarhouse tours. There’s even a parade.”
Whit stares at me as if he’s waiting for a punchline. “That sounds exactly like the type of small-town shit you said you wouldn’t like.”
“But I know you’d like it. And there’s no cheese wheel races.”
He lets out a deep laugh.
“We can drive up there and be back before my shift tonight.”
The sides of Whit’s breathtaking eyes crinkle as he breaks out into a dimply smile. “You’d endure that for me?”
“Only for you.”
I’ve been looking online to see what kind of events area towns are hosting with it getting closer to summer, and this was the first one that didn’t make me want to fake my own death to get out of.
I’m willing to compromise and do things Whit wants to do, but I do have some limits.
Like anything cheese related.
Whit kisses me, and okay, I’d probably even do the cheese thing if he asked me to. I’d do anything for him. I just won’t let him in on that secret yet.
We shower, but it probably would’ve been quicker if we did it separately.
We’re all exploring hands and needy cocks, only proving to me that I will probably never get enough of exploring his body.