Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, probably.”
“So I’ll pretend to be older than I am,” she suggests.
“It’s not just your age,” I snap. “It’s—” I run my hand through my hair. “Work is intense, and it needs all my attention. All eyes are on me.” I sigh. “I’m the youngest coach to ever coach at this level. It’s a huge deal and, right now, that has to be my main focus.”
“Who is telling you that it can’t be your main focus?” she asks me, standing up. “You are talking as if I’m asking you to run off with me and elope.” She laughs, “I’m twenty-five. I met a hot man in a bar one night and had great sex.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, technically, I made it half of the great sex it was because I’m that awesome.” I laugh. “Then I met him again and he got all angry at the world and avoided talking to me.”
“I didn’t avoid talking to you,” I defend myself and she rolls her eyes.
“Can we not just take it a day at a time?” she asks me. “I mean, what if I don’t even like you out of bed?”
“What if I don’t like you out of bed?” I counter her question with her own question.
“That’s impossible,” she retorts. “Refer to my previous statement that I’m ninety-nine percent better than any of the women out there.” I laugh at her now. I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone who was so mature about things, yet carefree. “I’m twenty-five.” She looks at me while she says it. “I just moved to a brand-new city. I started a brand-new job. I just got out of school. I’m not looking to run off with you and get married just because you can do me properly.” I glare at her. “What? We have great sex. We can’t dispute that.”
“I’m not disputing that,” I quickly add to the most mature conversation I’ve ever had with a woman.
“So why don’t we just go day by day, and if it gets to be too much for either of us, we’ll reevaluate,” she raises her eyebrows, “because let’s face it, you could be too clingy for me.”
“Is that so?” I ask her.
“Zane, I’m fucking fabulous.” She points to herself, and I laugh. “Now, I’m not going to say you were stalking me”—she takes some more ice cream and puts it in her mouth—“but I’m not not saying it. How did you know where I live?”
I walk around the island and she watches me, her hair flipped to the side, the soft waves framing her face. I pick her up by her waist and place her on the island. She opens her legs so I can step in between them. I grab the spoon from her and she snatches it back, putting some on the spoon and then feeding it to me. “See? Perfect.” She points to herself once I take the ice cream off the spoon. The cold ice cream hits my tongue as she takes another spoon for herself.
“When my house had to be gutted, Kirby told me about this house,” I tell her. “I came to take a look at it. I was going to take it but—”
“Too small for such a big man.” She reads between the lines. “I get it.”
“I guess you do,” I say. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Because you didn’t deserve to speak to me.” She doesn’t let any of my actions slide. “I gave you a week and you did nothing with that week.”
“I wouldn’t say I did nothing,” I state as she feeds me another spoonful. “I thought about doing something.”
“I’m thinking about doing something right now.” She tilts her head to the side. “It has to do with my mouth and your cock.” She smirks. “Oh wait, not going to do it.” We both laugh. “Maybe in a week.”
I reach up to hold her face in my hands. “If it’s any consolation,” I say softly, “I really, really wanted to do something about it.”
“If it’s any consolation,” she counters and I can just imagine the snark that she is going to come up with, “I bought three vibrators, and blew them all.” She holds up the hand without the spoon and holds up three fingers. “Deep throated all those motherfuckers.” She winks and I laugh and pick her up. “Zane,” she squeaks, laughing when I throw her over my shoulder, “the ice cream.” It drops to the floor, along with the clang of her spoon. Her robe falls from her ass as I move my hand up and slap her bare cheek. “Zane.” She laughs as I walk to the bedroom.
“Time to show me how much you practiced with those fake cocks,” I tell her, bending at my knees and tossing her on her back. I pull down my pants, my cock springing free. “Take off the robe,” I demand and she quickly tosses it to the side, unsnapping her bra and throwing it over her shoulder. “Hands and knees,” I direct her, “ass in the air so I can play with it while you take my cock.”