Page 94 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
“You have absolutely zero rights to my breasts.”
“How about your pussy?” I add another finger, so I have two fucking her now. Her grip on my dick tightens and she moves her hand faster up and down me.
“That too.” Her voice is lower and a little breathy.
“Then you have no rights to my dick,” I say, just as breathless.
“This dick?” She squeezes harder. I pump my hips a bit so I can fuck her hand.
“Yeah,” I moan. “That dick.”
“Oh hell, I think I’m going to come,” she says.
“Not if I come first,” I pant.
“It’s not a competition.”
“It’s always a competition.”
My come jets out in spurts up my chest and along her back, as her core clamps down around my fingers, and we go over the edge together.
“We made a mess,” I say, after I catch my breath, trying to wipe my chest on her shirt.
She rolls away from me and out of bed. “All that matters is that I came first, so I won.” She walks toward the bathroom.
“You might want to change your shirt,” I call after her. “I got my winnings all over it after I won.”
She flips me off and closes the bathroom door. I hear the shower turn on and contemplate joining her. But I know if I do, neither of us will actually bathe, and we’ll be late to meet Blake for breakfast. Plus, we seem to have this shower theme in our relationship, which is a little weird.
There is no relationship.
Shit. That’s right.
I almost forgot.
bristol
“The apples didn’t arrive?”Blake asks the harbormaster for the third time.
“That’s what I said twice before,” the man says. “What I was told is apple season is delayed this year on account of poor weather.” The man shrugs. “You can’t tell the fruit when to ripen.”
“So where am I supposed to get two hundred and fifty apples?”
“Store?” The man walks away.
Blake grabs both sides of his head and pulls at his hair.
“It’s okay.” I pry his hands off his hair before he loses more. It looks like he’s been pulling it a lot lately. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You don’t understand, Brie,” he says, his voice rising and shrill. His eyes flit around, open wide enough to see the whites around the iris. “Taylor is a monster.”
I laugh because I assume he’s exaggerating, which would explain his expression and his tone. Then I notice his hands are shaking too.
“Blake, are you okay?” I wave my hand behind me, hoping Wyatt will notice and join us, and Blake won’t notice so that it appears natural when he does.
Not that I don’t feel capable of talking to my brother when he’s upset, or panicking, just that I think another guy’s perspective might be better right about now.
“No, I’m not okay, Bristol. What part of anything that has happened thus far would make you think I’m okay?” His voice is shrieky.
