Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Yeah, that would have sucked,” he mutters so low, I’m surprised I can even make out the words.
“I mean…” Before I can finish my thought, he moves quickly, and our jaws clash before his lips are back on mine, Marty pouncing me like an animal, and soon I’m on my back, sliding my hand around his waist as that tongue slips back between my lips.
I’m not sure what the hell he’s doing, and I don’t really care so long as he keeps on kissing me.
12
Marty
What the fuck is going on?
Ryan is one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met.
With the most kissable lips, apparently.
Not that I have too much experience with that, but when our lips are locked, all the clutter, all the sound and fury that usually preoccupies my brain finally quiets, allowing me to be absorbed by the pleasure.
Even with all the questions that have come up since we got back to my room.
Am I a shit kisser?
Am I attracted to guys?
Am I queer like my best buds?
Maybe I attacked Ryan with another kiss because this could be the only way to answer these questions. But this could all be because I haven’t had a real kiss in so long, what I did with Ryan finally gave me some much-needed relief.
It was wild.
It was exciting.
And when he’s not talking, it’s easy enough to forget what a dick he can be.
As I pin his wrists to the bed, making out with him, I savor the swirling sensation in my chest, the pricking in my fingertips and lips, the soothing warmth in my cheeks.
Who knew the guy who can get me the most worked up could also act as a sedative?
I don’t know how long we’ve been making out, but I finally manage to pull away, catching another breath without his tongue down my throat.
Ryan lies on his back beneath me, his shirt hiked up slightly to show the grooves in his abs, which for some reason is catching my attention right now.
“Everything cool?” he asks, which considering everything that’s happened tonight, seems like a wild-ass question.
“I think my lips are starting to get chapped,” I admit.
“Should I put on some ChapStick before I kiss you again?”
I laugh…fucking laugh over something Ryan Lorde said. Wow. This is new territory.
“You really are something,” I say. “You’re acting chill as ever after what we’ve been doing?”
“Should I be freaking out?”
“One of us should be.”
“Isn’t that kind of your thing?”
In that case, I’m not doing a bad job. “Shut your fucking hole.”
“You know how to make that happen.” His gaze settles on my lips again.
He’s not wrong about the worrying bit being my territory, so I do my job, letting the questions this provokes dominate my thoughts.
“You think we’re attracted to guys?” I ask, and his brow creases.
“What’s the answer you need that gets those lips back on mine?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m starting to see why the girls find you so damn charming.”
“Bet you are,” he says before offering a soft peck.
My dick is really straining in my boxers, so I have to adjust it for what must be the tenth time since we started making out.
“Let me just…” I unfasten my belt and notice Ryan looking at my crotch. “Don’t look!” I insist.
“Oh, sorry.” His gaze shoots right for the ceiling in a way that’s more considerate than anything I would have expected from him.
“Somebody’s being nice now that he wants to kiss me again.”
“Hey, I’m always a gentleman.”
“You haven’t felt that gentle the past few minutes.”
“Neither of us has really been all that gentle. And I think it’s cute that you believe it’s been a few minutes,” he says as I unfasten my fly and fix my dick so the head has some breathing room.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I say, and he retrieves his phone from his pocket, revealing it’s almost two in the morning, so it’s been like thirty. “Ugh. I need to get some sleep. I’m volunteering with Activate Kindness tomorrow. And I still don’t know what the hell this is all about.”
“I think you have a little idea of what it’s about.”
“I just need to think it through, and doing this with you isn’t helping me get any thinking done.”
“You think too much.”
He’s not wrong.
“Have you decided to go back to being a fucking asshole?” I ask.
He sits up, getting right in my face, so close I’m waiting for him to plant another one on me, when he says, “Dude, whatever it is, it’s not a big deal. Would it be so terrible if you were into guys and girls?”
“Not really, I guess.”
“And I might be too, but we don’t have to put a label on it in one night.”
He’s right for a change, but that’s not really my thing, and without his lips pressed against mine, I’m already starting to spiral, reflecting on my other experiences with guys, searching for clues that might have indicated interest that I haven’t perceived that way.