Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He moaned, lifting to meet my next thrust and the next as he sucked my tongue and grabbed my ass for purchase. Our steady pace fell apart in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t get enough of him. Every push and pull sent shivers all over my body. I was a tingling jumble of sensation, and Jake seemed to be right there with me.
“Christ, you’re so fucking big,” he gasped, snaking his hand between us to grip his cock.
“Too much?”
“No, it’s good. Keep going. Mmm, that’s it. Yeah…fuck, yeah.”
Holy shit, this man was killing me. I pistoned my hips…fast and steady.
“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” I panted.
“Ungh…I’m—oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”
And that was the end of me too. I roared through an epic orgasm, bucking and pounding into Jake’s ass, clinging to him like a damn koala in a windstorm.
I couldn’t move, which seemed to be a recurring post-sex theme with us.
“Are you okay?” I mustered the effort to brace my weight on my hands so I didn’t squish him.
Jake flashed a megawatt smile and nodded. “I’m unbelievably okay. That was…incredible. And damn it, I wish you could see this view.”
It took a second for me to figure out what he meant. I followed his gaze to the mirrored ceiling and…my tongue almost fell out of my mouth. I rolled sideways, pulling Jake with me, still impaled on my cock.
“Fuck me. Look at us.” I lifted my leg and tilted my pelvis. “I wish I had a bionic penis. I don’t want to stop fucking you.”
“I think Viagra helps with that.”
I glowered as I slipped out of him and tied off the condom. “I do not need Viagra, smartass.”
Jake snickered, hooking his leg over me to keep me close. “No, you don’t. That was amazing. Seriously. I loved it.”
I beamed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Can I…you know…”
“Fuck me?” I supplied, pulling his chin as he started to glance away, his cheeks pink. “Are you embarrassed? Hey, you’re not allowed to be embarrassed with me. We’re in this together, you know?”
Jake’s eyes softened as he combed his fingers through his hair, regarding me with a funny look I couldn’t read. “For a big hockey jock, you say some sweet things…Mason.”
My heart flipped and somersaulted in my chest. Maybe it was the compliment or the way he said my name. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it, so I reverted to normal defense tactics.
“Dude, you’re crusty all over. I guess this is why whipped cream is a no-no. You look like you got hit by a cum truck.”
“Ew, that’s disgusting,” he huffed, tugging at the towel wedged under my ass.
“That probably won’t do any good. You need a shower and—”
“Food.” Jake lunged for me, fusing our mouths. “Feed me. I’m hungry. And then…round two.”
I blinked, my gaze locked on his ass as he sauntered to the bathroom.
So…let’s get something straight, pun intended. I’d just had amazing sex with a man. A man I was supposed to hate. And it had felt so good, I couldn’t find it in me to consider possible repercussions. But I wasn’t naïve. There’d be eyes on us soon, and I knew this could be a PR nightmare. Or career suicide. This was the kind of thing that would make a sane person panic and swear it would never happen again.
Fuck that.
It might not be smart, but that had never stopped me. Besides, this felt like the best thing that had happened to me in a long time.
18
JAKE
As strange as it was to admit this…I liked Mason Trinsky. A lot.
The things that used to bug the hell out of me didn’t anymore. Sure, he was brash, loud, and ridiculously cocky, but there was another side to him that was thoughtful, patient, and kind.
Don’t get me wrong. He hadn’t undergone a personality transplant. Trinsky was still annoying and goofy.
Get this—Mason traveled with cinnamon Pop-Tarts. Two days ago, on FaceTime, he’d told me that he had them delivered to hotels when he was on the road with the Condors. There was a good chance he’d been yanking my chain, but I hadn’t minded. I’d laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes as he read the ingredients on the box.
“It contains wheat and soy and the perfect amount of cinnamon,” he’d reported.
“And sugar.”
“Not enough sugar. If it was up to me, they’d double the layer of cinnamon, like Double Stuf Oreos. Eddie and I bought a package of those the other day. There was a secret handshake and a promise not to tell our mom, who, in addition to quitting smoking, drinking, and snorting coke, no longer eats junk of any kind. I’m proud of her, but an occasional Oreo isn’t gonna hurt anyone. And by the way, respect for the scientists in charge of Oreo flavors. Their motto is definitely ‘Go big or go home.’ Those guys will put anything in a cookie filling—s’mores, lemon, Sour Patch Kids. Broccoli is next. Just wait.”