Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Not exactly newsworthy—that’s how he woke up most mornings, but he was usually in the privacy of his own apartment, not on the floor of his fake girlfriend’s idyllic childhood home. He reached under the blanket and wrapped his fist around his dick, anyway, trying to judge the appropriateness of beating himself off while Skylar slept a few feet away.
Relieving himself right here and now would definitely cross a boundary.
Wow. Look at me, all ethical and whatnot.
Skylar rolled over in bed, one of her bare thighs coming into view above, all smooth and toned and kissed by the beginnings of the sunrise. Christ, he would give up jerking off for a year for the privilege of licking her knee to pussy, spreading her legs wide on the bed, and just going to motherfucking town on her with his tongue. Last night, she’d made it clear she could use some sexual attention, if not verbally, then by how she’d reacted to his hand on her thigh. Squirming and blushing in the booth of the Cheesecake Factory, staring at his mouth and throat and forearms. Pulse erratic at the base of her neck.
She needed something Robbie knew how to give—and give good.
No wonder he was stiffer than a flagpole in January.
But having a painful erection was a hell of a lot better than having his chest ache, the way it had throughout their “date” last night. Wasn’t it? Even though they’d technically been on one date already, back in Boston, he’d still underestimated how fulfilling it would be to sit with her in a restaurant, arm around her shoulders . . . and talk.
Skylar had worried about being a good date? Making small talk?
What she had to offer was so much better than that. She was passionate and honest and insightful. She listened, offered valuable opinions. Sitting in that booth, surrounded by hundreds of diners, he’d sworn they were on their own deserted island. A place where they could say anything and not be judged, only understood. He’d told her about his grandfather’s kite. No one knew how much that three feet of yellow nylon being stuck in the tree bothered him. Only her. And that shame felt so safe in her hands, he wanted Skylar to store all his insecurities and secrets and fears now.
The sound of her yawning and stretching made Robbie close his eyes, picturing himself in the bed beside her, instead of lying on the floor. He’d sip her upper lip, followed by the bottom one, while his fingertips slowly teased her nipples, keeping up the treatment until her thighs started to squirm, wordlessly asking for pressure, friction, a more intimate touch, and he’d slide his hand into her panties, hitting her with a deep kiss at the same time. Grip her pussy hard to let her know he’d heard that plea loud and clear. He’d work it in his palm and whisper for permission to finger fuck—
“You awake?” she asked through a second yawn.
“Huh? Yeah,” he rasped into the stillness, visions of them still vivid and glorious on the backs of his eyelids. “Happy making out day, Rocket.”
She hummed. “Don’t get any ideas, Redbeard. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”
Robbie smiled through the pain. There was no one else like her, huh? No games. No pretense. Just real and earnest. “Do you mind me asking when this make out session will take place? Like, before or after I humiliate myself at the rock climbing wall?”
“Maybe we should wait until after you’ve been humbled. I’ll be less intimidated.”
Robbie sat up immediately, propping his chin on his hands on the edge of the mattress. “Intimidated?”
She turned on her side, half her face nestled into the pillow. That thigh was still exposed in the sheets, though, and his dick was extremely aware of that spot where thigh turned into hip. His palm itched to span the entirety of that curve, squeeze it, drag his thumb along the slope of her hip bone. Eventually, he’d slide his hand around to that ass, hold it steady while he—
Robbie severed his own train of thought when he noticed the tips of her ears darken while she tried to come up with an explanation for him.
She truly expected to be intimidated. This bothered her.
Why did it suddenly feel like elves were sawing his jugular?
I don’t like when things bother her.
“You’re going to think I’m . . . stiff,” Skylar said, finally. “No, I am stiff in those situations.”
He made a skeptical face. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be the stiff one.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yeah, he did. Her worry didn’t make sense to him, though. “Skylar, when I kissed you yesterday in the front yard, you fucking melted. You weren’t stiff whatsoever.” She blinked, appearing to think back to the prior morning. “If you really think you’re stiff with men, maybe it’s something they’re doing wrong, not you.”