Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Thirty-five…” thoughtlessly seeps into the air at the same time my lips fall to feather his again, my second o antsy to join the first. “Thirty-five…”
“Take it, Slayer,” he grumbles back before teasingly sliding his tongue across mine. “Take another win.” Tasting him in between him tasting me fuels the building burn as if gasoline to the flames. “Take all the wins.”
Aches in my knees start to grow; however, the heavenly heat licking itself up from my curled toes towards my trembling thighs erases all care and concern for anything that isn’t coming completely undone again.
“Jukes…” I state, voice shaky, soaking wet muscles mimicking its unsteadiness. “Let go with me.”
Whether it’s his final rock or mine that gets our bodies singing doesn’t matter.
Blistering bursts deliciously melding with blazing pulsations, intertwining us in the most intimate way possible, is the only thing on my mind.
And his…considering how he sensually smashes our mouths together.
Syncing the roll of our tongues to that of the euphoric waves down below is an effortless execution, and one I look forward to giving the ABBA treatment.
Keeping it on repeat.
“One minute to spareeeeeeee!” Bronny loudly announces upon his clomping back into the kitchen. “Whoooo!” Scrunching down to keep my naked body from being seen happens on a Madonna sort of prayer. “No reverse lunges for me!”
Jukes tips his head backward over the edge of the couch post winding his arms protectively around my figure. “Go shower.”
“Why?”
“You smell.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Little bro, you smell like the Nirvana song.”
I snicker against his chest at the grunge music reference I wasn’t expecting.
I swear.
He really does live up to his nickname better than anyone else I’ve ever met.
“Shower,” my sex god instructs again. “Pits. Ass. And feet.”
“My feet aren’t that bad!”
“They smell exactly like the type of chip you ate an entire bag of with dinner. Snipes don’t dig that shit.”
“They could.”
“They don’t.”
“Maybe they would?”
“They won’t.”
“Ughhhhhhhh,” gets groaned during what I am hoping is his exit.
“Use deodorant!” The two of us wait in complete silence until the stomping can be heard above us rather than in the next room. At that point, our attention drifts back together again, cheeks red, although it’s currently impossible to know if it’s from sex itself or damn near being caught. “We should hit the showers too, Slayer.” Seeing the corner of his lips curl upward immediately as his cock begins to swell inside me a second time leads me to sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “Together, of course…”
Chapter 12
Gillian
M dramatically cranes his face closer to the camera prior to playfully poking, “Are those really blonde tips in your hair?”
“Yeah.” Touching them thoughtlessly occurs. “What do you think? Too Cyndi Lauper?”
“Maybe if your whole head was blonde, aye,” he lightly laughs at the same time I lean back in my office chair.
“You know this is the first time I’ve ever died my hair.”
“Does this count?” A playful cringe precedes more laughing. “I mean…this is just the tip…just a feel…”
“Why do I feel like you’re recounting your first time with Mari?”
Additional chuckles rip through him prompting me to victoriously smirk.
Gahhhhh, I miss him.
I don’t remember the last time we spent this much time apart.
Not physically – because hockey has always done that – but like mentally.
Between his conferences and work events and me – finally – having my own social life that doesn’t revolve around him or my friends, our schedules just aren’t meshing.
It’s weird.
Not quite Weird Al weird, but still pretty weird.
“Is it safe to assume the bud you’re dating is responsible for the hair risk?” investigates my big brother.
Sort of?
Bronny wanted to do it after he saw some Tik Tok, so I stopped to get the materials on my way over from work – since he texted me – and once we got started on him – with Jukes blessing – one thing led to another, ending with him looking like a Justin Timberlake lookalike contestant and me ready for a forgotten episode of TRL.
I will say Thayne likes the color because I like the color.
And I like it because it’s something different.
Something I randomly just went for.
Which didn’t happen a lot before Thayne entered my life.
“Um…” my head bounces back and forth in contemplation, “in a way?”
“Uh-huh,” judgingly hums my best friend, “and what else has this pylon gotten you to try?”
“Is that a sex reference?” I teasingly taunt.
“Is he getting you to try weird sex stuff?!”
“Sex is like coffee, M. Just because it’s unusual to you, doesn’t mean it’s not the usual for someone else.”
“You sound like Groffee.”
Panic instantly gets my heart racing.
Shit!
Do I?
Does he know?
Is now the time for him to know?!
Is this the big, beautiful, DJ in the sky’s way of telling me to cue the track?!
All of a sudden, a voice in the background shouts something, derailing the notion altogether, “Fuckme, I gotta go, Gilly.”