Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I reached down and gently put my hand around his throat as I bounced on his dick. I traced my thumb along his plump lips. He sucked it in, eyes locked with me. He started to thrust up, meeting my movements with his own.
It was too much, I was too close. I dropped my head back. He encouraged me, still sucking my thumb. “Do it,” he said around my finger. “Come.”
Hearing that was all I needed. My entire body tensed. My toes curled and my head fell back as I blew my load. It was like a broken fire hydrant. I drenched him in cum, hitting the headboard behind him, some of it dripping off his chin, getting in his hair.
“Holy fuck,” he said as he railed up into me and stilled. His fingers dug into my hips as he held me there, emptying himself inside me, his entire body twitching and convulsing underneath me.
As our orgasms subsided, our glee took hold. I started to giggle. Like a fucking schoolgirl. That made Dylan look up and start laughing even louder. “God damn,” I said, slowly pulling off him and falling onto my back at his side. “I think you fucked me into a different timeline.”
“Oh yeah? What happens in this timeline?”
“We never got a certain president twice.”
Dylan laughed at that, still completely covered in my cum. “Sounds like a great fucking timeline.”
“As long as you’re in it, I know it’s good.” I leaned in and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean of love and companionship that Dyl offered me. The waters were perfect. I never wanted to get out. “Seems like you loved being a good boy, too, huh?”
“I did,” Dyl said, nuzzling against me. “I loved being your good boy.”
“I could tell.” I kissed him, hard, wanting this moment to go on forever. “Let’s shower off and chill for tonight,” I said. “Unless you wanted to go out with the guys. Celebrate.”
That last bit was an invitation I selfishly hoped he wouldn’t take. I wanted to spend time with him. Wanted to hold him until he started twitching and snoring, and know he was safe in my arms.
“I’m good just celebrating with you the rest of the night.” He kissed me back and my heart floated up to the ceiling.
I may have not even played tonight but I felt like, in that moment, I had still won a prize and I was going to do my damnedest to hold onto it.
Chapter Twenty-One
One Other Thing
DYLAN
I paced around my living room, music playing through the TV speakers. Nike lounged on the couch, his tail swishing in the air, his big orange eyes trailing me. He was likely wondering why the hell I couldn’t sit still since I got back from Tampa.
I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about Miles.
Scratch that, I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Miles.
That hotel rendezvous was one of the hottest encounters I’d ever had. And it was made even better by the hours-long cuddle session afterward. Talking about random shit, kissing in between laughter, hands lazily exploring each other, holding each other, and then back to fucking again before sleep overtook us both. It was everything I’ve ever wanted. Someone to share not just the passionate, heated moments, but also the softer, delicate ones. Someone I didn’t feel ashamed of wanting to ask if I could stick around after the rush of sex and hormones subsided.
That was Miles to me. And the fact that I was able to get the fated mate feelings off my chest made it all the better.
And all the more anxiety inducing too. It exposed my most inner emotions. I couldn’t take it back. Couldn’t say it was a joke, or a tease, or a mistake. It was real, and it was how I felt.
But, for some reason, it didn’t seem like he felt the same exact fated pull I did. I didn’t doubt he had feelings for me, but I did doubt the intensity of them. I was an overthinker. My mind swirled with “what ifs” that were rarely based in reality, fed instead by irrational fears and unfounded insecurities. Maybe it was rooted in the simple fact that I saw, firsthand, the pain that a one-sided relationship wrought on someone. My mom would cry in her room after Dad left her out of the blue, asking why in between silent sobs. At least, she had tried to keep them silent, but my shifter hearing picked up on every sniffle and every choked breath and then I’d find myself crying alone in my room, unsure if going to her would make her feel better or worse. She had loved him with everything she had. Every fiber of her being had been dedicated to his love, and she had thought he felt the same.