Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Duke reappears with a wet washcloth, then wipes my flesh and cleans me up. He tosses the rag into the hamper in the corner of the room, then flips the light back off before going to the foot of the bed and crawling on his hand and knees—back in my direction.
Yes!
His giant hands spread my legs, pushing my knees apart.
His mouth goes to my pussy, going straight to work.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he tells me, licking down my center. Sucks.
Sucks, beard stubble tickling the skin of my inner thighs. That’s going to leave a mark…
“Oh my God.” It feels so good, feels so good. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
Duke goes to town, sucking my clit until my legs start to tremble, my body beginning to quake, the orgasm hitting me harder than it probably would have done if it was his dick hitting my G-spot.
“Uh…” I’m shaking—shaking as if all the nerves in my body were struck at the same time because perhaps they were.
And when he’s done, he kisses my lips. Pressing his lips against mine before collapsing on the bed next to me and reaching for my hand.
I sit up, pulling the quilt over us.
“Can we not tell anyone that I came in less than sixty seconds, please?”
It’s not what I was expecting him to say. The laugh leaving my throat sounds nervous and full of giggles. “Who would I tell?”
“Um—literally anybody? SportsCenter? People Magazine? Molly?”
Good point. “I forgot you weren’t a normal person,” I tease.
“I’m normal. I’m just not…”
“Normal.”
“Fine. I’m not normal.”
“Trust me, I haven’t said anything to Molly about the other morning and I’m not going to say anything about this either. I promise.”
He lets go of my hand so he can roll toward me, tucking a hand under his chin. “I believe you.”
I believe you.
The words do something to my insides. “You don’t trust many people, do you?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
Duke thinks about it for a few seconds. “So back when I was a kid—when I was a junior about to go through the draft, I had this agent I thought was the tits. His clients were some of the most famous athletes in the world, and I just assumed I could trust him.”
I already don’t love how this story is going.
“And I was this kid who assumed I’d be playin’ in Texas because that’s where my pops played—and I was promised that’s who would take me in the draft.”
“But that’s not what happened?”
“Well, as you know, I was playin’ for New York.” He pauses. “I fuckin’ hated it there. Resented it with all get-out ’cause that’s not where I was ’sposed to be.” He shrugs. “That agent of mine sold me out. He had a back-door deal for another player with the Steers without telling me about it first.”
I have no idea what a back-door deal is, but it can’t be good.
“Sounds like they pulled the rug out from under you.”
He nods.
“Obviously, you’re not holding a grudge against the Steers?”
“No. It had nothing to do with them. Their GM hadn’t known I was interested.”
“If you want to find a silver lining…at least you have experience now?”
He glances over at me. “You find the good in everything, don’t you?”
I mean, I try to.
Sometimes I have to. “Working with little kids will do that to a person. Everything is a travesty to them. I spend a looot of time calming them down.” I laugh quietly, thinking back to this past week when I had to teach little Maya Newbauer to count to ten after Noah Olson took the last watermelon Jolly Rancher out of the treat bowl on my desk.
She had her fists clenched and tears rolling down her eyes as if the whole world was going wrong that day.
“Dude,” I then say. “We had sex.”
“Did you just say ‘Dude, we had sex,’ or ‘Duke, we had sex’?”
That makes me laugh again. “Dude. I definitely said dude.”
“You just duded me.”
“At least I didn’t call you bro.”
He yawns, big and loud. “That’s true.”
I snuggle down into the covers and let out my own yawn. “So tired.”
“Same.”
And then we sleep, not mentioning the sex again—at least not tonight.
He’s gone when I wake up.
Like—gone, gone.
Not just from the bed.
Everything in the bedroom is gone—his clothes and toiletries and the duffel bag he had it packed in. It had taken me a few seconds to sort it all out in my brain after my eyes had peeled open, and I called out to him several times only to be greeted by absolute silence.
Then I’d looked over at the dresser where his cologne and wallet had been. Looked at the closet where his bag and personal items had all but been spilling out for an entire week and saw…nothing but two open closet doors.
I sigh, sitting up as my alarm clock goes off with an hour to get ready for work.