Read Online Not Looking for Love: Episode 3 by Lena Bourne - Free Book Online
Authors: Lena Bourne
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haven't spoken at all. "So it's better that you got rid of it."
His words are harsh, but his tone isn't. The idea still brings tears to my eyes, visions of a black, stormy sea clear in my mind. "Don't say that. It isn't true."
"Well, that's what I'm going with," he says. "You have your sleeping pills and exercise excuse, and I have that."
I want to turn around and kiss him, but then I'd break the hug and I don't want to. "Whatever works, right?"
Nothing will ever work. I'll never forget, never stop blaming myself, but all that is frozen along with the rest of the world right now, and that's how I want it to stay for at least a little while longer.
"It's just my luck really. I should've seen it coming," he says and rests his head back on the pillow so I feel his breath on my neck.
"I messed up with the pills, it's all my fault," I say, because it's true and I can face it now, with his arm around me. "And what does that even mean, your luck?"
"Whenever I do something wrong I get punished for it, like immediately," he whispers. "Or when something good happens, something equally bad always follows."
I don't want him to think that, it hurts. "This is good, isn't it? Do you think something bad will happen? Because I don't."
"Maybe not, I don't know," he says, and brushes the hair away from my neck with his free hand. "At least, I hope it doesn't."
He kisses my neck and I sigh, turning my head sideways to give him better access. My skin is so tender and every touch of his lips sends heat shooting down through my chest, into my stomach, finally pooling in a single spot between my legs. I let go of his hand, and reach back, pulling him closer. He places his leg over mine, and I push back against his erection, let it rest against me in the spot where I wish he could enter me right now. His hand is under my shirt, cupping my breast. He licks my neck and I moan loudly, rocking back against his cock. He's breathing hard now, his tongue tracing the line from my collar bone up to my jaw.
"Maybe we shouldn't start anything we can't finish," he says, right before he takes my earlobe between his teeth.
"But we can finish this," I whisper and slide my hand behind the elastic of his waistband, and run my fingers gently along his length. It's pulsing against my hand, the head all wet. I run my palm across, then grip his cock and slide my hand back down to the base. He sighs deeply, his tongue in my ear now, making me moan. I slide my palm up and down, all the way to the tip, back to the base, repeat. His breath is hot against my neck and coming in short burst now. He bucks his cock into my hand, meeting my movements. I'm breathing hard, because making him feel good makes me feel good too.
He clasps my hand over his cock to hold it still, and thrusts faster, more urgently. Then he grunts, and his stomach tenses. A hot wetness erupts all over my hand, wetting my pants and shirt.
I don't let go of his cock right away, enjoying his cum cooling on my palm. "How was that then?"
"That was fucking awesome, Gail," he says, and kisses my cheek then pulls away and lies on his back. I flip over and rest my head on his chest, listening to his breaths crackle as they return to normal.
"Maybe we should get up, or something," he says after awhile.
I'm running my fingers across the hills and valley of his ripped stomach, and I really don't want to stop. "Why would we do that?"
"Well, I really have to piss for one thing," he says and chuckles.
I lean back so he can get up. "OK, but come right back."
He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches. "I'm also kinda hungry."
Come to think of it, so am I.
"We could go to that place down on the beach. They have really good clam chowder," I suggest, sitting up too.
"Ewww, clam chowder, that's disgusting," he says and grins back at me.
"They have hot dogs and stuff too," I argue. I'm already almost tasting the soup, and I really want to have it.
"That's even worse," he complains.
His words are harsh, but his tone isn't. The idea still brings tears to my eyes, visions of a black, stormy sea clear in my mind. "Don't say that. It isn't true."
"Well, that's what I'm going with," he says. "You have your sleeping pills and exercise excuse, and I have that."
I want to turn around and kiss him, but then I'd break the hug and I don't want to. "Whatever works, right?"
Nothing will ever work. I'll never forget, never stop blaming myself, but all that is frozen along with the rest of the world right now, and that's how I want it to stay for at least a little while longer.
"It's just my luck really. I should've seen it coming," he says and rests his head back on the pillow so I feel his breath on my neck.
"I messed up with the pills, it's all my fault," I say, because it's true and I can face it now, with his arm around me. "And what does that even mean, your luck?"
"Whenever I do something wrong I get punished for it, like immediately," he whispers. "Or when something good happens, something equally bad always follows."
I don't want him to think that, it hurts. "This is good, isn't it? Do you think something bad will happen? Because I don't."
"Maybe not, I don't know," he says, and brushes the hair away from my neck with his free hand. "At least, I hope it doesn't."
He kisses my neck and I sigh, turning my head sideways to give him better access. My skin is so tender and every touch of his lips sends heat shooting down through my chest, into my stomach, finally pooling in a single spot between my legs. I let go of his hand, and reach back, pulling him closer. He places his leg over mine, and I push back against his erection, let it rest against me in the spot where I wish he could enter me right now. His hand is under my shirt, cupping my breast. He licks my neck and I moan loudly, rocking back against his cock. He's breathing hard now, his tongue tracing the line from my collar bone up to my jaw.
"Maybe we shouldn't start anything we can't finish," he says, right before he takes my earlobe between his teeth.
"But we can finish this," I whisper and slide my hand behind the elastic of his waistband, and run my fingers gently along his length. It's pulsing against my hand, the head all wet. I run my palm across, then grip his cock and slide my hand back down to the base. He sighs deeply, his tongue in my ear now, making me moan. I slide my palm up and down, all the way to the tip, back to the base, repeat. His breath is hot against my neck and coming in short burst now. He bucks his cock into my hand, meeting my movements. I'm breathing hard, because making him feel good makes me feel good too.
He clasps my hand over his cock to hold it still, and thrusts faster, more urgently. Then he grunts, and his stomach tenses. A hot wetness erupts all over my hand, wetting my pants and shirt.
I don't let go of his cock right away, enjoying his cum cooling on my palm. "How was that then?"
"That was fucking awesome, Gail," he says, and kisses my cheek then pulls away and lies on his back. I flip over and rest my head on his chest, listening to his breaths crackle as they return to normal.
"Maybe we should get up, or something," he says after awhile.
I'm running my fingers across the hills and valley of his ripped stomach, and I really don't want to stop. "Why would we do that?"
"Well, I really have to piss for one thing," he says and chuckles.
I lean back so he can get up. "OK, but come right back."
He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches. "I'm also kinda hungry."
Come to think of it, so am I.
"We could go to that place down on the beach. They have really good clam chowder," I suggest, sitting up too.
"Ewww, clam chowder, that's disgusting," he says and grins back at me.
"They have hot dogs and stuff too," I argue. I'm already almost tasting the soup, and I really want to have it.
"That's even worse," he complains.
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