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)
“I should probably pull out,” I say.
“You don’t have to just yet.”
“I mean, I guess you did say it was my ass, so can I just keep it here for the rest of the day?”
His playful chuckle lets me know what we did set him at ease.
He keeps his hands on the desk, ass out, and I kiss his shoulder again, clinging to him, both of us surely knowing that despite how much we wish we could stay in this moment, at some point, like all beautiful moments, it has to end.
21
RYAN
As I throw on my clothes, I love knowing I’ve still got Jonas’s cum deep inside me.
There’s a sting to what we just did, but I’m proud of myself for my determination despite moments when I thought it might be too much.
“Funny how much longer it takes to get clothes back on,” Jonas says as he pulls up his pants.
I fasten my belt. “I’m just thankful we’re able to get them off that fast.”
His gaze turns my way, and he doesn’t even try to look cool—just with that stupid broad grin because I know he found that as hot as I did.
I toss my shirt on before passing him his off the desk.
My gaze travels across his body, and then I glance around, wondering where Simon’s cameras could be, what angle he’ll have of what we just shared. I’m glad thoughts like that didn’t pull me from the experience, but I shouldn’t have to think like that at all.
The photo album I placed on the desk catches my attention, and I eye it uneasily. I was smart enough to know better than to look at it, but when I saw Jonas’s surprise at the similarity, knowing he’d pulled up an image of himself when he was younger, I had to know how much of it was real—especially now that I knew Jonas so well, I could barely see Kieran when I looked at him. Yet seeing Kieran again in that photo, it was impossible to deny the obvious physical similarities, even more so than I remembered.
But looking at the photo didn’t just remind me of what he looked like—it brought back other memories too.
A memory behind the shed.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. Simon and I were just…” He reaches out.
“Don’t touch me! I saw what you were doing with him. Just go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” I try not to cry, but the tears keep falling.
Fuck. I don’t want him to see me like this.
Kieran places his hand on my shoulder. “Ryan, please don’t cry. You don’t understand. I didn’t mess around with Simon because I want him. I messed around with him because I want you.”
For a moment, the searing pain in me eases up, and I turn to him. “What?”
“Don’t you fucking get it? You’re the one I love.”
He loves me?
Despite everything, my heart flutters with hope. I’ve wanted this for so long, so desperately. And now he’s saying the words, but after what I just saw…
“I’ve never loved Simon. I love you, Ryan.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead, a kiss that soothes the discord raging inside me.
“It’s always been you, Ryan.”
“Ryan?” Jonas asks, and I force my eyes from the album to him, struggling to keep the memory at bay.
“Did you say something?”
“I asked if you wanted me to put that up for you.”
“Oh, yes. If you could.”
For all the fun we just shared, there’s concern in his expression. I wish he hadn’t seen my reaction, but I’m also glad he was here when it happened and that he was able to take the pain away.
It’s why I needed him so desperately. He was the only thing that could help me escape the agony tearing through me.
And what a fun distraction it was.
Jonas places the photo album back in its place on the shelf, then returns to me and hooks his arms around my waist before planting a firm kiss on my lips.
It helps push the memories back, keep them behind a boundary of briars so they can’t hurt me.
Jonas’s hands find their way back to my ass.
“Mmm,” he says, bringing to mind the passion, the intensity, the burn.
“We’re gonna have to do that again soon,” I tell him.
“I’m okay with that.”
“You sure felt like you were okay with it. I don’t know that you’ve ever been that hard inside me.”
His smile is sort of cocky. I like flattering him.
“So…” he says, “that whole this-ass-is-yours comment—was that just something you meant in the moment?”
“Huh?” I inspect his expression, trying to make out what he means.
“Sorry, it’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not. What do you mean?”
His cheeks turn pink, reminding me of how he gets when he’s about to come. “I like you, Ryan.”
“I like you too.”
Why am I not following this?
“I mean I really like you. Like…I wouldn’t mind if we were…an item?”