Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Take it. Whatever you need.” I reached for his cock, intending to help him along, but Sean batted my hand away.
“Don’t distract me.” He gave me a sexy glower as he ground against me, milking my cock with his ass muscles. “Want to focus on this.”
“It’s pretty fucking amazing.” Reclining more in the chair, I reveled in the sensations of him on top of me, the faint sheen of sweat on both our bodies, the scent of sex hanging in the air, our moans mingling, every perfect detail.
“Like always.” Sean offered me a look so tender my heart gave a weird twinge.
“Sean…”
“Come on. This has to be top ten for you? Top five all-time?” Sean’s eyes twinkled.
“Stop fishing.” I yanked his head down for a kiss, which was a mistake because it took the smoldering pleasure between us and turned it into a full-blown inferno in three seconds. A deep, pleased rumble escaped my chest. “God, yes.”
“Please. Keep kissing me,” Sean begged like I could do anything else. Add in his please, and I could easily kiss him for the next decade or three. However, soon enough, he started to shudder, body bucking, cock dragging against my stomach. Tense lines appeared around his eyes and mouth. “Damn it, I wanted this to last.”
Me too. On so many levels. But I didn’t, couldn’t, say that. Instead, I encouraged his motions, hands returning to his ass.
“Just go, baby. Ride me. Get us both there.”
“Denver. Denver,” he chanted my name, voice wobbling as his body shook. I’d had a feeling for some time that he could come from fucking without a hand on his dick, but actually witnessing it was the hottest thing ever. His cock pulsed harder, head brushing the trail of hair on my stomach, the barest of contact, yet it left a shiny, wet trail of precome. “Close. So close.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” And in that moment, I did have him, had him in my arms and head and heart all at once. I held him tightly as he came, come dripping onto my stomach.
“Yes. Yes.” The sexiness of his orgasm pushed me closer, but it was his obvious joy at climaxing that did it for me, the way he said, “Yes,” like it was an affirmation of being alive. Even as his cock spurted and his body trembled, he grinned widely.
So happy. And for an instant, I was the reason. I couldn’t help smiling back as I thrust upward in quick, short bursts until I came with a shout.
“Sean.”
“You said my name.” He preened. “That’s a first.”
“So is you coming damn near untouched.” I chuckled, a near-giddy afterglow replacing the intense rush of the climax. Sean untangled our bodies and handled the condom, locating a towel before he snuggled back into my lap.
“Funny how much I love this position now.” His voice was sleepy, almost enough to lull me into a nap along with him.
Me too, I wanted to say, wanted to ask him to stay like this forever, but nothing this good, this special, ever lasted. I held him tightly anyway, like that could stem the inevitable parting. He rested his face against mine, both of us breathing deeply for long, glorious moments.
“I can’t stay.” I finally managed to get the words out.
“I know.” Sean yawned. “We can’t sleep here, much as I might like to.”
“I meant—”
He cut me off by dropping a delicate kiss on my lips. “We’re not fighting, remember?”
I groaned. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Something good, I hope.”
I wish. I wanted to give him only good things, only good memories, only good feelings, yet I’d never doubted my abilities less.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sean
I wasn’t at all surprised to find Eric awake at not even five a.m., nursing a cup of what smelled like mint tea at the kitchen island.
“You up late too?” he asked with a salute of his mug. “Or is it up early?”
“Early.” I suppressed a groaning yawn. Eric looked like he’d had even less sleep than me. In the couple of days since my carriage house sex with Denver, the quality of my sleep had been directly proportional to the number of messages from Denver. Which was to say, sleep was spotty and not nearly enough. “Gotta be on duty soon enough.”
“Yep.” Eric took a long sip of his tea, wincing like it was too hot and swallowing anyway.
“You okay? Rough night?”
“They’re all rough lately.” Eric dragged a hand through his short hair. “Sorry. That sounded depressing, even for me. Rowan called me Eeyore the other day. He’s probably not wrong.”
“You’re allowed to have hard nights.” I took the stool next to him. We’d been friends for over two decades, and there were still times I felt I didn’t know Eric well enough. I lacked my mother’s ability to always know the right thing to say to comfort someone, and for all that I knew the right actions on the job, I felt adrift in knowing what to do for Eric. “I just wish I could help.”