Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
It’s the reason I jumped at the chance to marry him, even if it was spur-of-the-moment on our trip to Vegas over a year ago now. But the moment was perfect, and we wanted it to only be us. Our families were shocked—likely because they consider us young, which I think is a bunch of bullshit—but also bummed they weren’t part of it. I just turned twenty-one this past summer, and John is a few months older. We’re plenty mature enough to know what we want. Each other. Always. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him at Sunrise Bay High.
An overwhelming melancholy swells inside me, and I blink back the stinging of tears behind my eyes. I press my mouth to his ear. “I love you so fucking much.”
He turns and kisses me sloppily. “I love you too.”
We confess our devotion every day, but right this moment, it feels necessary. He needs to know how much he means to me. How much he always will. Even if I’m not always content in this small coastal town with its quirks and limited opportunities for someone like me.
“I need you to fuck me hard,” he pleads in a husky voice that makes heat surge in my groin.
“Then I need to see you.” He protests when I pull out, throw back the sheet, and help him adjust to his back.
“Need you, Mic…” He sighs as I lean down and take his mouth in a breathless kiss, our tongues tangling, his hands gripping my hips. He hikes his knees to his shoulders, his eyes soft, trusting, adoring. Fuck, do I love him.
I line up my cock and surge back inside, making us both gasp.
“Holy fuck,” I groan, my pace intensifying, our flesh slapping together, echoing in the room. I vaguely wonder if anyone can hear us but decide I don’t care.
His pleading turns hoarse as his fingers tighten around his cock and he strokes in earnest. I greedily watch his pink hole stretch around my shaft until he cries out, jets of come spurting across his stomach. His hole constricts almost painfully tight around my cock, and there’s no way I can hold back any longer. Light dances before my eyes, obscuring my gaze as I careen over the mountaintop as well.
Collapsing on top of him, I gasp into his neck, my cock throbbing, my body quivering. I feather kisses along his throat and ear and jaw, all while murmuring his name. John. J. Baby. Beautiful. He never felt like a Johnny to me, and he secretly likes that I call him something different from everyone else in his life.
Our limbs tangled together, we lie there all sweaty, with come drying between us, as we pant and recoup our breaths.
My cock softens, and once I pull out of him, I grip the sheet and fling it back over us. He drags me tightly against him, spooning me, and I feel cocooned again in the safety net of his arms. Our puffs of breaths seem loud against the stillness of the night, and too soon, that same melancholy returns to replace the euphoria of my release.
I wish we could stay like this, in the safe harbor of our love, and drown out any unsettling feelings I have about my future. They have nothing to do with him. It’s my burden to bear.
As if reading my thoughts, he murmurs, “I think you should do it.”
My head snaps up. “Do what?”
“Leave this town.”
A gasp escapes me, but then I puzzle over the statement.
“I am leaving, J. I signed up for that weekend theater workshop in Palo Alto, remember?”
I discovered my love for theater in high school drama club, but there are zero options to study anything further in Aqua Vista. So, I’ve found more local classes over the past three years, in and around the area, to whet my appetite. Movies kept me sane during my tumultuous childhood with my father—it was easy to turn up the volume and tune out his angry, drunk ranting—and my interest only grew by being involved in productions.
John grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’m talking about LA.”
“Depending on traffic, LA can take me seven or eight hours by car. I can’t do that in a weekend. Not easily, at least.”
“Then find an apartment and sign up for a class. Find an agent. Go to auditions.”
My gut churns, but my heart soars, making me feel dizzy and disconcerted. “What the hell are you saying?”
“It’s time. You’re slowly dying in this town.”
“No, I’m not.” I repeat the lie, but I don’t think my voice conveys it. Not to him. “Are you implying we should’ve never gotten married?”
“Marrying you was the absolute highlight of my life.” He pecks my lips. “I’m opening a bar, living my dream. Yours is in a city like LA.”