Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
As I nibble at his bottom lip, his arms hook around me.
“Jonas…oh, Jonas.” He moans, and my hips jerk faster, like they’ve taken control, my balls tightening as the pressure builds up in me.
“I told you, if you keep saying my name, I’m gonna come.”
“That’s what I was hoping for.”
Maybe it’s the playfulness in his tone, or how his lips twist into that sexy smirk, but it’s too late for me. Energy shoots through me, and a few quick thrusts are all I have left before I curse through my teeth, my cock swelling in him as I shoot deep.
“Keep fucking me with it,” he says.
I lean back, and he grabs his shaft, jerking it. I put my hand over his. “Let me.”
He releases his dick, and I stroke it as I continue my thrusts, watching his hand as he caresses across his torso while I fuck him. His ass tightens around my cock as he groans, his body tensing up, his expression locked in a cringe before he shoots, white streams streaking across his belly.
“Oh fuck yeah.”
I don’t know what possesses me, but before I know it, I’ve pulled out of him and my face is buried in the cum on his abs. I’m all tongue, trying to take it all in.
What’s gotten into me?
What’s Ryan done to me?
This isn’t just about Simon’s proposal. This is about something in me I’ve never had a chance to unleash. And as I lap up the last of his cum, I gaze up at him.
He’s looking down at me, watching my work, and he grins.
“Maybe you should have had more dinner,” he teases, which gets me laughing.
10
RYAN
Jonas doesn’t leave right away, like he did last time.
I enjoyed having him on top this time.
That surprised the hell out of me.
Maybe it’s his inexperience. Or his curiosity. Or his vulnerability in this fucked-up arrangement. Whatever the reason, I find it easy to let my guard down when I’m with him.
After we clean up our mess, I toss the towel into the laundry hamper in my closet and return to the bed, where he’s sitting up against the headboard.
He watches me as I walk, still nude, to the liquor cabinet by the fireplace, his eyes drawn to my cock.
“For someone who’s never messed around with guys before, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.” It’s a safe comment to make, even if Simon is watching and listening.
Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t enjoy letting Jonas fuck me, I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying the experiences, even to the point of letting go of my awareness of the watchful eye we’re under—something that never escaped my mind that first time.
“It’s surprising me, that’s for sure.” He sounds satisfied, and I love knowing my body gave him that.
I pour myself a whiskey, and he requests rum and a mixer, so I fix one for him before returning to the bed.
For the first time since he came over tonight, I get a good look at his face.
Yes, his features are similar to Kieran’s, but it’s getting easier to see the differences. A tiny freckle near his ear, a sharper dip in the middle of his chin, fuller lips. And his personality is totally different—not the brash, goofy kid I grew up with. Jonas is more reserved. And he’s sweet, with that hint of playfulness I discovered during our first fuck and then now.
I wonder if the change in my perspective is because we’ve messed around. Or maybe it’s my mind’s way of distinguishing between the two men, to protect me from my memories.
Jonas seems to notice my attention, and his mouth opens like he’s about to ask something, but he stops himself. Maybe he’s wise enough to know there are things we can’t discuss, not as long as we know Simon’s listening.
After Jonas takes a sip of his drink, I kiss him again, feeling a tingle of the rum as I taste the raspberry mixer. I’m about to pull away, but my tongue lingers against his bottom lip, and then I’m kissing him again, his tongue greeting mine.
Between the two fucks we’ve shared, I can’t deny there’s chemistry here. I fear, as Nell suspects, it might have some fucked-up connection to Kieran, but after being cooped up in this house, depriving myself of pleasure for so long, confining myself to a death of sorts, it’s nice to finally do something that makes me feel alive.
“Sorry, just wanted to see if I mixed your drink right,” I tease, which makes him laugh.
I pull away, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, I inspect his face again—now it’s like a holographic image, shifting into another face if I angle in the light, which is strange since when I first saw it, I would’ve sworn it was Kieran, back from the dead.