Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“We’re watching Jeopardy?”
“I’m behind on this week’s episodes.” His tone was conversational, like I wasn’t standing in front of him, harder than a fence post, desperate to play. “You come before the episode ends, and you won’t get your reward.”
My cock pulsed in my jeans. Let the games begin. “What’s my reward?”
“Think you can earn a riding lesson outside of the ring tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir.” I’d been getting more riding practice thanks to Kat and felt ready to try riding outside of the arena setting. The fact that Grayson also remembered what I’d asked for last time made my insides tremble with a mix of want and gratitude.
“Good boy.” He also apparently remembered how much I liked praise. The first time he’d said the words, they’d washed over me like summer rain, unexpected yet welcome nonetheless. “Come over here.”
I moved to kneel between his legs. I could easily blow him for a single game show episode. As long as I avoided touching myself, we’d be golden. But Grayson apparently had other plans as he made a clucking noise.
“Nope, not there. That’s part of what you gotta earn.” He patted his muscled thigh. “Strip and come here.”
I’d never been so eager to shed my clothes in all my life. As a bonus, me naked and him remaining partially clothed was one hell of a turn-on, making my newly freed dick bob in front of me. Grayson was far more chiseled from years of hard work, but if he objected to my skinniness, he didn’t show it as he made a low sound of approval. As soon as I was naked, he arranged me on his lap. His jeans were rough under my ass and only added to my surging arousal.
“I think I like this.” Gazing up at his face, I gave a happy sigh. If he wanted to sit like this for a whole episode, I could easily keep from coming. But then the diabolical man started stroking my sides. I made a startled noise.
“Eyes on the TV,” he directed in more of that easy tone. But his narrowed eyes said he expected to be obeyed. “You pay attention to the show now.”
“Impossible.” I wriggled on his lap, trying to see if he was hard, but he stayed my motions with a firm hand on my hip. His other hand wandered like a drone mapping new terrain, skimming over my arms, my collarbones, my nipples, and stomach. He returned to my nipples to give each a light tweak. I let out a soft moan. “As is me waiting if you keep doing that.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” He ran a single finger across the crease of my thighs, dancing ever closer to my cock. If he was nervous about touching a cock other than his own, he didn’t show it, expression staying placid, almost as if he were actually paying attention to the show.
I was panting even before his fingers reached my cock, and when he stroked the underside, I moaned. “Fuck.”
“What was the last question?” His tone said he expected an answer, but the voices on the TV might as well be speaking Klingon for all I cared.
“Heck if I know.” I let a little brattiness creep into my voice, which earned me a firmer grip and a none-too-gentle nipple flick.
“Wrong answer.” He tilted my head away from gazing at him, so I was forced to look at the TV. “You watch that mouth of yours now.”
The mention of mouths made my brain gallop right to thoughts of kissing, but Grayson didn’t seem inclined in that direction. I didn’t want to force the issue, not when I was desperate for more of his approval. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s better.” He rewarded me exactly as I’d hoped, wrapping a fist around my cock. His hand was bigger than mine and more work-weathered, a contrast that made me moan even before he started leisurely stroking. He also faced the TV, but unlike me, he was apparently actually following along. “What is Argentina?”
“How are you so good at multitasking?” I groaned. Not only was he the silver fox cowboy of my dreams, but he was also smart? He was lucky I didn’t propose on the spot. Or come, which was increasingly becoming a possibility, even with his maddeningly slow strokes.
“Practice,” he said idly as he continued to play with me, rattling off a few more right answers as I lost the ability to think of anything other than how badly I wanted to come. Every time I got anywhere close, though, he slowed down even further, loosening his grip until I was wriggling, trying to get more contact.
“Please.” I wasn’t above begging.
He made a tsking noise. “Episode’s not even half over.”
“Forget multitasking, how are you so damn good at edging?”
“Practice there too.” He let out another of those welcome chuckles, torso rumbling against me. “Lotta lonely nights on the ranch. I got good at playing games with myself, making it last.”