Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“I . . .” I can’t make myself stop.
“It’s just tension, Ryan.”
“Hormones,” I whisper. Whore moans, it sounds in my head. God, I want to make some. “I can’t believe . . .”
“You’ve never been pregnant before.”
“I’ve never felt like this. Never needed.”
Another pause, those words sinking in.
“Then . . . let me.”
The pleasure kudzu explodes, twining through me and pulling tight as thoughtless words spill from my mouth. “I sincerely hope this didn’t happen to your sister.”
He laughs, and I’m glad he does. Because that sounded so weird.
“Teacup, let me help relieve this pent-up pressure.”
I drop my head with a sigh. If he only knew how much pressure. It’s one thing for him to touch me in a nonsexual way but quite another to admit that my brain and body have twisted that touch into something else. Something that makes my insides pulse and ache as though I’m moments away from climax.
“Let me make you feel good.” Such temptation in those quiet words. Understanding, even. “It’s just a massage.”
But we both know that it’s not.
“And what happens tomorrow?” My whisper sounds almost panic filled.
“Nothing. Unless you want me to do it again.”
“Be serious, Matt.”
“Whatever you want,” he says so softly. “We can talk it out. Or pretend it never happened. Lady’s choice.”
My insides, oh, how they pulse with remembrance. “It complicates things.”
“It doesn’t have to.” His voice is smoky. Sexual. And his hand curls around my hip, but doesn’t hold as it glides upward, his thumb like a tiny mallet dragged along the xylophone of my ribs.
I guess I must be musical too, as I give a little hum.
“Ryan.” His hand makes a frame for my breast, cupping the weight of it. “You can tell me to stop. And I will.”
I bite back a pleasured whimper as his thumb swipes over my hard nipple.
“Would it help if I said how much I’ve dreamed of this? How I’ve imagined touching you. Tasting you.”
“Hush.” Don’t talk. Don’t make this too real.
“Then be a good girl. And turn around.”
“What?”
“Didn’t I tell you I was hungry?”
I allow him to turn me, and like iron filings to a magnet, my fingers are drawn immediately to his chest. So warm and solid to the touch.
“You’re beautiful.” His eyes shine golden as he reaches for the end of my braid, bringing it to his mouth.
“You were watching.” Pleasure threads through my accusation as he swipes it across his lips.
“Enviously.”
I give a soft, flattered laugh.
“I’d like to kiss you.” A beat passes, and when I don’t object, the light turns his dark hair glossy as he dips his head. Lower than I imagined, because his mouth is hot and wet and magic as it closes over my nightshirt-covered nipple.
I moan. Oh, God, how I moan, the feeling immense as that sucking pull resonates deep between my legs.
“Can I?” His question is tentative as he tugs on the cotton of my nightshirt.
“I don’t . . .” know. I feel so conflicted. I want this, but—
“Please.” That word, the need in it, undoes me. I begin to gather my nightshirt myself, and we both work to pull it over my head.
Heavy lidded, his gaze drinks me in. My breasts, the hard pebbles of my nipples. My rounded stomach, my softer hips. My simple cotton panties.
“You’re so beautiful, Ryan.”
I give a tiny gasp as his hands cup my breasts, and his mouth returns, his tongue swirling across a stiff bud. My moan sounds ragged as he sucks it hotly into his mouth.
“You’re so, so lovely. Strong. Yet delicate, my little teacup.”
My body seems to understand before my brain does as he dips, his hands coming around me as he lifts me to the countertop.
And then it’s all over but the crying out.
Chapter 29
Matt
Romero family group chat, without the aul wans. The old ones, also known as the parents.
Me: I have an announcement to make.
Hugo: Yr gay?
Sebastien: But not the good kind.
Lola: Yeah, not the actual gay kind of gay.
Lucía: He’s not cool enough for that. Matt is the late noughties, crap kind of gay.
Letty: When are you lot gonna grow up?
Hugo: When you lick the back of my ballbag.
Letty: That’s a charming thing to say to your sister.
Hugo: Sorry. I’m not well. I’m still in my bed.
Letty: What’s wrong?
Hugo: Whiskey mostly.
Sebastien: And a run of shite games.
Hugo: Do you wanna go home in a box?
Me: Getting back to me . . .
Lola: There he goes, main charactering again.
Lucía: That’s where Matt gets it from. The aul wans are all for main charactering.
Letty: Are you two talking in tongues?
Lucía: Story checks out. The parentals think this thread is for arranging their birthday presents and stuff.
Me: Fuck’s sake. Are you all done?
Hugo: Done in. Can we get this over so I can go back to bed?
Sebastien: You’re in bed right now. And not alone, dick fingers.