Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“What are you wearing?”
“Jeans, an old T-shirt. Nothin’ special.”
“You look pretty special in jeans,” she whispered. Then she gave an awkward giggle. “That was so cheesy. I can’t believe I said that.”
“I’ll take it,” I replied, smiling.
“I’m just not real good at this. I mean, I know we’ve talked at night, but that was before … You know.”
She didn’t want to say it and I sure as shit didn’t need her remembering what I’d put her through.
“We’re not doing anything,” I said, slowly rubbing my cock up and down. I squeezed it hard, watching as fluid beaded up on the tip. “This is just two friends talking, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “But there’s something I need to know first.”
“Ask,” I told her, hoping to hell it was a question I could answer.
“Liam, do you have an old lady tucked away somewhere? I mean, I know I don’t have any right to ask, but …”
That caught me off guard. What the hell? This was what I got for giving her space, I realized. Was someone filling her head with shit?
“No. Fuck no—where’d that come from?”
“Well, you say you’re not into relationships, but a lot of guys say that when they want to get laid,” she replied, sounding nervous. “Then it turns out they’re already with someone, just looking for something extra on the side. For all I know you’re married with ten kids. You’ve already lied to me about other stuff, and I know some of the brothers keep more than one woman.”
I coughed.
“If I was married with ten kids, I wouldn’t be talking on the phone with you. I’d be shooting myself in the fucking head.”
She laughed.
“So the answer is no?”
“The answer is definitely no,” I said. “I’ve slept around—I’m not ashamed of that. And I lied to you for my club. But I don’t have to trick girls to get laid.”
“So no more surprises?” she asked.
“No, straight up,” I answered, hoping she’d believe me. My phone beeped—another call—but I ignored it.
“Where are we going with this?” she asked. “Has anything changed? Or should we just hang up and end it before things get worse?”
I considered carefully before I answered.
“I don’t know,” I replied, and for once it was the truth. “You want me to be honest, so I’ll be honest. I don’t know what’s between us because it’s not like we’ve had a chance to explore it. You’re different than any other woman I’ve been with. I actually like talking to you about shit that’s not sex, but I won’t pretend that fucking you isn’t what I think about the most. Just your voice makes my dick stand on end, so I’ll take whatever I can get. If that’s just a phone call, don’t spoil it for me yet, okay?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I just slid my hand down into my boxers,” she whispered, and I swear a pint of blood left my brain. “I’m remembering what it felt like when you sucked my nipples. I want to lick your stomach.”
My entire body clenched. My fingers slid up my straining cock to find the beads of precome. I palmed my cockhead, then started jacking myself slow and hard.
Yeah, this was what I needed.
“Find your clit,” I told her, my voice going low. “Are you wet yet?”
“Yes,” she said. “I feel really weird doing this … Like I’m a whore or something, because the club—”
“You’re not a whore. And don’t think about the club. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else at all when you’re touching yourself, got me? Think about me and what I’m going to do to you the first chance I get.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll start by sliding my fingers deep inside your pussy, get them nice and wet. Then I might play with your clit.”
I heard her breath catch.
“I’m doing that right now,” she said. “What about you?”
“I’ve got my cock out and I’m jerking off while I listen to your voice,” I told her bluntly. “My balls are so fucking tight they feel like they’re in a vise, and I keep imagining how hot and slick you’d be around me right now.”
“Oh,” she whispered. Her breath caught again. “You’re better than my vibrator, you know that?”
The image of her using that vibrator filled my brain and I lost the power to speak. I felt my balls drawing up, my hand gripping my dick so hard it almost hurt.
Almost.
“How are you doing?” I asked, trying to slow myself down.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m rubbing my clit, one finger on each side,” she told me. “First up and down, and then I sort of wiggle them against each other. I’m using my other hand to play with my nipples. Your turn.”
I gave myself another hard tug, hips lifting. Hell, I was getting damned close. Usually I could last for hours, but something about Em fucked with me on every level.