Wycked Escape by Wynne Roman

Author:Wynne Roman [Roman, Wynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Noah

I wake up next to Paige. She’s curled on her side with her back to me. My chest is pressed against her, my morning wood tucked against her ass. Never been more comfortable—or more certain about how good it would be to wake her up with my cock already inside her.

Sweet Jesus, yes. But . . . hold on there, cowboy, I warn myself. That’s too much too fast. No doubt about it.

Hell, last night was too much too fast. Not that I regret it. I don’t. Not one damn bit. But this is a major fucking turn of events.

How do I face her this morning? How do I even feel?

I can’t just lay here wondering. My body suddenly needs to move. It’s an old demand that’s seen me through some shit. I know answers will come with better blood flow and oxygen to the brain. And when we’re not on the road, I’m used to early-morning workouts.

Slowly, careful to leave Paige sleeping, I slip from the bed and step into the walk-in closet. I grab my workout clothes, an old pair of nylon shorts and a T-shirt, and pull them on. Shoes and socks, and then I’m ready for the building’s shitty gym. Even an hour on the elliptical machine should help.

It does—and it doesn’t. It gets the blood pumping and the oxygen flowing, yeah, but it also gives me way too much time to think. About Paige. About our past. About now . . . and—holy hell—if there’s a future.

What the hell is going on? The question keeps driving through my brain, demanding an answer. Why is my life changing in these weird, random ways, and what’s wrong with being the old me? Living as manwhore Noah Dexter was never a bad thing.

Or was it?

I think back to the way I used to live. To all those nameless, faceless women. To the single women, the threesomes, even a couple of foursomes, and the few times Zayne and I tag teamed a girl. The days and the nights, the quickies and the all-night sessions. The hand jobs and blow jobs and downright dirty fucking. It’s all a blur, and the saddest thing of all? I don’t remember any of it.

Oh, I might get a flash of a face or a piece of memory from a hookup, but that’s it. It’s there and then gone in an instant, and it never means a damn thing.

The women never mean a damn thing.

I should be ashamed, and I suppose there’s a part of me that is. At least when I look back. But at the time, there was none of that. Nothing occurred to me except my own pleasure.

Yeah, I always made sure the women came. It was like a pride thing with me, to give them the best O they ever had. That didn’t mean anything to me about them, though. I wasn’t even present in the moment. Mindlessly getting ‘em off required nothing of me emotionally.

Talk about wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.

What a douche.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.