Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
He rolls his eyes. “My own stupid shit. I wanted to find the perfect moment.” He sketches air quotes. “And that’s why I told you in bed the other day. I have to stop waiting for perfect moments to say what’s on my mind. Especially because . . .” He slows to take a breath. “I’ve had a long time to think about bottoming.”
“Since LA you mean?”
He shakes his head, smiling slyly. “More like . . . my whole life. I’ve never bottomed before,” he adds, and he sounds nervous and excited.
I need a moment to take in the enormity of that statement. He wants me to be his first. That’s . . . intense. “Why now? Were you just never into it before?”
He blows out a breath then continues his confession. “Well, I didn’t have sex till college, so there’s that. And, this may shock you, but I’m also kind of a control freak,” he says, deadpan.
“You are such a control freak,” I say, laughing.
“Guilty as charged,” he says, then his smile evaporates. His eyes go serious. “And to answer your other question—why now? Because . . . it’s you. I really want to feel everything with you.”
My heart rockets to the moon, and I have only one answer. “Then I’m going to top the fuck out of you,” I say, and I seal it with a declarative kiss.
Topping him is a tall order, though, and I’m not ready for it tonight, so when I break the kiss, I say, “But would you be okay if we waited a little longer?”
He pulls back. Then he clears his throat. “Of course.”
Before he can retreat, I grab his face. “TJ, it’s not bad. It’s just . . . remember what we said in Pomander Walk? You and I go too fast. We don’t really have another speed. And this—this is big. I want to make it amazing for you. I want to take our time. I want it—don’t laugh–to be something special.”
He’s stripped bare as he answers: “Same here.”
“And I might also need to read up. Find a few articles on how to blow your man’s mind when you rail him for the first time,” I say.
He smiles, easy and free. “I see you already don’t plan to go easy on me.”
“Fuck no. I’m going to wreck you in Paris. Or London. Either place,” I say in a filthy promise.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“But I have to say, I’m a little floored. You’ve written first times so well, I thought it was from experience.”
He laughs sweetly, then threads a hand through my hair. “Thank you. But it’s never about the ABCs. I’ve never been with a woman either, and I write those scenes in my straight romances.”
“True, true. And you do write passionate straight sex,” I say.
“Because a sex scene is never about sex,” he says.
This is what I want with TJ. Closeness, connection, a window into his world. “What are they about to you?”
He brushes a firm kiss onto my lips. “Exploration.” Another kiss on my ear. “Intimacy.” Then, a bite of the lobe. “Trust. Every scene is about something else. You just get into the head of the character and what they’re feeling, what they want.”
I’m even more turned on now. Incredibly curious too. “What am I feeling right now? What do I want?” I ask, breathless for the answer.
He points to the doorway to the bedroom. “I’ll show you what you want. Now.” He’s all rough and commanding.
Yes, sir.
I leap off the couch. Champagne glasses in hand, he follows me to the bedroom.
“On your stomach, baby,” he tells me.
I obey. Anticipation curls tight in my body as he jerks my briefs down my legs then sheds his shorts. TJ climbs over me, straddling me. His hard cock presses against my lower back and the weight of it makes me groan.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
I comply.
Then, I sense the flute tip above my back before feeling it. The pour of the liquid onto my skin. I squirm when the first few drops of champagne hit my spine. The second his lips touch my back, I moan.
His tongue coasts down me, following the path of the drink. I wriggle on the bed.
He drizzles a little more champagne at the top of my ass, then laps up the drink right before the liquid slides between my cheeks. I feel decadent, then hot and bothered when he moves up me and drops his face to my neck.
“When he kisses my neck, I shudder,” TJ begins, voice low and smoky as he presses his lips to me, telling me a bedtime story. “His tongue grazes my shoulder, and I melt into the bed.”
A few seconds pass as the erotic awareness fully registers.
He’s narrating me.
He’s writing what I’m feeling right now. What I want, word by word. Holy fucking hell. It’s so sexy to have someone read you so well.