Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Noah …”
I’ve never heard my name sound so good.
Matt looks at me like I’m more than my money. No one has ever done that. Even my friends. I don’t help my case by playing the role of entitled asshole, but it’s how I survive. The one time I showed my true self to someone, he ripped my heart out for a college degree and a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus.
The noises Matt makes as I suck him down go straight to my dick. I want him to come, and I want to swallow it all—something I don’t normally do. Matt knows that, and the few times I’ve done this, he gave me warning. It’s not the taste I hate but the amount. It triggers my gag reflex. Guys in the past have complained about it, but Matt doesn’t care.
My finger massages his prostate while my mouth works him over, and my own cock begs to be touched, but I refrain.
“Coming,” Matt says.
I don’t move away.
“Noah …”
I stay with him, loving every drop he gives me. The gag reflex kicks in a little, but not enough for me to pull away. I drink him up and wait for him to stop shuddering. And when he pulls me up this time, I don’t stop him. He kisses me hard and long, no doubt tasting himself on my tongue, and he groans into my mouth.
“You didn’t have to—”
“Wanted to.”
“Noah—”
Uh-oh. Nope. I know that tone. We’re not talking about it. “I need coffee.” I try to climb out of bed, but Matt’s too strong for me when he pulls me back and rolls on top of me.
“Not so fast. We have all day for coffee, and I need twenty-four hours of distractions. It’s your turn.”
As he slides down to return my favor, I welcome everything he’s going to give me. Because it means I don’t have to talk about the real shit going on in my head. I guess we’re both great at distraction.
I don’t kick Matt out of bed again Sunday night and wake up with him against me. My muscles ache, my skin is marked with bruises from his mouth and punishing hands, and I absolutely cannot care less.
“What’s the time?” I mumble as a vibrating noise comes from the bedside table.
“Who the fuck knows.”
“Are we late for your meeting?”
“It’s not until two.” Matt finally reaches for his phone and frowns. “It’s OTS.”
“Answer it.”
He grips his phone tight. “What if it’s the call telling me not to bother coming in?”
“Then not answering won’t change that fact.”
The phone stops ringing, and Matt lets out a loud breath. Then it starts ringing again. He stares at it as if it might explode when he hits the green button.
I hold my hand out. “Want me to answer? I can pretend to be your assistant.”
Hesitantly, he hands it over.
“Matt Jackson’s phone,” I answer.
“Noah? Why are you answering Matt’s phone?” Damon asks.
“Why are you calling him when you have a meeting in”—I hold out the phone and check the time—“four hours?”
“There’s a … situation going on here. Matt needs to come in immediately.”
My heart plummets into my stomach and then lurches into my throat. Did we fuck up? Did someone find out we’re not really together? I force myself to take a deep breath and not freak out yet. The way Matt’s staring at me, with those brown puppy dog eyes, I don’t want to scare him.
“If it’s not good news, it can wait,” I say.
“It’s got nothing to do with the offer I have sitting on my desk for him. There’s a guy here claiming to be his brother.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Brother? Which one?”
“Says his name is Jet.”
I pull the phone away from my mouth. “Jet’s in New York.”
Matt’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He didn’t know how else to get a hold of him,” Damon says in my ear. “He’s not talking much. Just asking to see his brother. Got a bit of an attitude on him. Can you guys come in early?”
“We’re on our way.” I end the call and throw the phone on the bed.
Matt starts to dress, but I stop him. “We smell like sex. We need to shower.”
“Fine,” he relents.
We take a world-record-breaking short shower, and I offer to drive, because Matt’s moving on autopilot. I can hear the silent questions running through his head, wanting to know why his brother’s here, what happened, and how he can fix it.
“Which brother is Jet? The nineteen-year-old or twelve-year-old?”
“You remember how old my siblings are?”
“Shit, don’t quiz me. It was a fluke.”
Matt laughs. “Jethro’s the nineteen-year-old.”
“Where does he go to college?”
“He doesn’t. I offered to pay for his tuition when he graduated high school, but he’s determined to be a musician.”
“So, he’s come up from Tennessee and didn’t tell you he was coming? Why didn’t he call?”
“He won’t have my number. My parents made it clear I wasn’t allowed near my siblings anymore. They all disappeared from Facebook. My parents blocked me. I tried setting up a fake account and adding them, but they never accepted. Which is fair, I guess. I don’t really want them adding random strangers, but I had to try. My parents probably monitor their accounts too.”