Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Not now anyway.
“No. I’d smoke too if I could keep my hands outside.” I only took a couple drags off his other cigarette. He didn’t even finish it before he snuffed it out.
Cigarette between his lips, he lights it. The embers glow red in the dark. Then his other bicep curves around me, holding me closer to his chest. His head is propped on a pillow while I use his body as mine.
I smile, and my heart pitter-patters in a giddy way I love when I’m around him. Lying in the bed of the truck together, we gaze up at the clear night sky and the twinkling stars inside the immeasurable darkness.
It’s peaceful, this moment with Donnelly.
We are on the very brink of Christmas. I’m sensing holiday magic swirling in the air. Then I wonder out loud, “What were your Christmases like growing up?”
He takes a long while to respond, unhurriedly expelling a line of smoke. Then he tugs on the sleeping bag, exposing my face to the elements. Cigarette between two of his fingers, he puts it to my lips so I can take a drag.
I try to inhale, but the gesture makes me smile more than anything. I blow out a little smoke, just as he says, “Empty.”
My smile vanishes. “Empty?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he says fast.
I nod once, my lips burrowed back beneath the sleeping bag. “No sorry feelings here.”
The corner of his mouth pulls upward. “It wasn’t even that I didn’t have a tree. Or that most Christmas mornings, my parents would paper-bag a can of Fizz or some shit they found in their cupboards and call it a present. Like a used lighter that barely had any fluid left. A tube of toothpaste I bought myself a week earlier.” He lounges back, eyes up above. “It was empty because they weren’t there.” He takes a drag, blowing out a quick cloudy stream. “Physically, they were there. On the couch. In the kitchen. Getting high. I’d call it a tradition, since it happened often enough to be one.”
I press my cheek to his chest, hearing the slow thud thud thud of his heart. Calm. He is calm. With one arm, he still hugs me to his lean muscled build.
I realize that I’ve been the wealthiest girl on Christmas morning, and Donnelly might’ve been the poorest boy—and it had nothing to do with gifts under the tree.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper, and I’m afraid I spoke too softly.
Until he says, “Me too.” His smile sparkles in the night. “Whose planet are we on now? Yours or mine?”
“I think we’re in outer space together, sharing a cryopod.” I wriggle farther under the sleeping bag, my ankles sliding against his calves, and his hand skates across my belly. The spot between my legs thumps with greater need, a swelter beginning to brew in our pod.
“Destination unknown?” he asks, putting out the cigarette.
“Yep. To be determined,” I say, watching him with rapt attention in the sliver of light outside the sleeping bag, my arousal rapidly and surely building. “Unless the destination is you inside me.” I shoot my shot.
“Nah, that’s not the final destination.”
Air ball. “No?” I try not to be disappointed.
He grips the edge of the sleeping bag. He’s hanging slightly over me, but he’s on his side. “I can fuck you while we’re in space.”
Yes. Yes, I like this plan. Fuck me in space. Words don’t release through my parted lips, an aching sound caught between them. My pussy already clenches as he tents the sleeping bag over our heads. Plunged into darkness and an escalating scorch, Donnelly hoists his body over me, his forearms rooted on either side of my head, and his lips effortlessly find mine in a sultry, slow-burning kiss.
My limbs quake. Ohmy…
I hear him snap the glowstick, and suddenly, we’re bathed in a vibrant green light. He’s by far the sexiest human I’ve ever rested my eyes against, and I sense him exploring me with the same carnal fascination. I brush my fingers against the carve of his shoulder muscles, down to the ink on his sculpted bicep, over to the ridges of his abs. All glowing in green.
He cups my face with two hands, bringing his forehead to mine, and I feel his entire body rock against mine. Whoa, whoa. A high-pitched sound tears through me. He’s simulating pushing in me without literally slipping in. Fabric. Too much fabric.
I hook my fingers under his waistband, but he’s stoking my pleasure, causing me to lose sight of my mission to unclothe.
He kisses me again, these seductive, breathtaking kisses that travel beyond my lips. He presses hot tracks along my collarbone, slipping the skinny straps of my nightgown off my shoulder. Then he draws the fabric down to my ribs, letting it pool at my hips.