Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I stare at him, blinking. “You’re … what?”
His lips spread into a dashing, proud-of-himself smile. “Whenever I’m not off somewhere filming, I’ll need some nice place to stay, won’t I? LA was never my vibe. I think I’ve grown attached to the bungalow. Someone convinced me once it’s a special place I should learn to respect more.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Isn’t this a bit fast?”
“River Fast-And-Reckless Wolfe, that’s what they call me. Actually, no one calls me that. I made it up.”
“You’re moving here?”
“Did you know I’m originally from Texas?”
“What? No.”
“You didn’t read my bio? Seriously, this information is out there, free for anyone. It’s why my bestie Anya lives in Austin. Put the puzzle pieces together, Finn!”
“But people know you’re here. Aren’t you a bit afraid the location of the bungalow is … tainted …?”
“Some know, some don’t. Something I learned real fast in this business: people bore fast. Bet you I’ll be old news by the morning, if not already.”
“River …”
“And if I didn’t buy the bungalow? Then randos would start staying in it just for the novelty that I once hid there. Or for its alleged ‘cursed history’, which I’ve confirmed is total bull, by the way, now that I have had the pleasure of staying there. No evil spirits lurk under those floorboards.”
“It’s the sea,” I explain distractedly. “Like putting your ear to a shell … o-or something. Are you seriously buying the Breezy Bungalow?”
“Look into my eyes. Remember the Acting 101 lesson I gave you? What do you see?”
I peer into his eyes which shimmer against the burning color of the sunset and the glint off the water.
There’s something new in his eyes I’m not sure I’ve seen before. They’re unguarded. Unbound. Free. Almost boyish in their honesty.
The eyes never lie.
His are begging me to give in to him.
Then it’s me silencing myself with my own lips against his, giving in to the chaos. I guess I have a problem with overthinking. Worrying and clinging to my circumstances and madly attempting to control the world around me.
Instead of just letting things happen. The way ocean waves happen. And weather. And sand rearranging itself forever on every beach in the world. And Hollywood actors I’m falling for, moving in down the street from me.
We’re wet from head to toe when we arrive at the back door of the bungalow—our lips still attached, kissing each other without relent—when we find the door to be locked. I ask, out of breath, “Got the key?” River pats his pockets, then says, “No. Anya must’ve locked up before she left.”
I give the door half a second of consideration—then elbow the pane of glass right out of the window, sending it falling like it was never fixed. I reach in, unlock the door, and River and I are inside.
The kitchen takes our shoes. The living room, both of our shirts. The hallway, our shorts and underwear.
The shower wall takes his back as I press him to it.
Then we flip around, and it’s my back against the wall, as I let go every last fear and reservation inside me, letting him kiss down my body like it’s his first time exploring it. The hot shower pours over us, washing away every shred of our worries, massaging our nerves out of their tension-tortured states, bringing us back to ourselves.
And when River’s tongue finds my nipple, I realize I will never again be able to resist him, now that he’s learned without a doubt my weakness.
I’m so fucked.
And I love it.
Being naked causes me to feel a thousand times more vulnerable to him, with every body part exposed to him. He continues his sensual yet commanding control over me as I enjoy the grazing of his fingertips over my body while his tongue tortures me. Will he caress my hips? Grip my ass? Stroke my cock to the point of oblivion, only to ease back just enough to stop me and drive my mind even crazier?
“Imagine if we do this every day,” he whispers in my ear when his lips return to my face. He’s rubbing my cock up and down with perfect finesse, keeping me worked up just enough without allowing me to spill over, my body still pressed to the wall. “You and me. Skipping around the isle. Dropping in here for some sexy times. Then cozying up in the evenings with each other.”
“Or just doing the sexy times all night long,” I breathe out, my mind teetering somewhere on the border between insanity and total bliss as he continues to tease my cock.
“Oh, trust me … once you get a little taste of me inside you, you’ll be thankful for that cozy time afterwards.”
And then he goes and says things like that.
I’m fucking done for.
That’s the thought I have when I find my face pressed to the pillow—and River’s buried between my cheeks once again. I could fuck a hole through this bed with my boner right now, the way that man drills me with his tongue after our shower. The sensation is almost so much that I want to close my legs, but he keeps them firmly apart, wetting me with his tongue, forcing me to endure the overwhelming pleasure it’s causing. Is this another actor thing I’m coming to discover? Actors and their skillful, talented tongues? Is this a thing?