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“Ranger.” Our eyes locked over my trembling stomach, and I panted. “Are you finger fucking or fact fucking me?” “Both.”
“Perfect. Delicious.” Facts became praise. Praise became pleasure. “I just want to make you squirt. I know female ejaculation is possible… I feel how swollen you are. How wet and responsive. I know you can, Sydney,” he encouraged me almost without even realizing it. “I just want to taste it—to taste all of you.”
Tomorrow, I was going to attempt to stack her orgasms. To build one off of another into a continuous orgasm. She was going to love it. I was going to love it.
We were so close to finding answers—close to figuring out who was behind all of this. So why did it feel like even with the answers, I was still going to lose?
Ranger had turned my fiction into fact. And all I could think was, what would happen if I stayed?
“Fair point. I’ll agree on that,” Miriam conceded and leaned forward. “So, then it’s up to you, pretty boy. What are you willing to wager on your wife?” She arched an eyebrow.
“I don’t have a condom.” It was more than that; I didn’t own them. Never had purchased them. Because I never did this. “I’m on birth control.” I swallowed and nodded. Bare. And it was more than my dick—it
we’re going to see how many orgasms I can give you in the next twenty minutes.” “Twenty minutes?” Her eyes bulged, her hips jerking when I brushed over her G-spot. “The average refractory period for a man.” I thumbed her clit and stroked her inner wall again. “Oh god.” She fell back on the bed and shuddered. “Twenty minutes…” She whimpered. “I won’t survive twenty minutes.” My lips curled. “Good thing I’m usually above average.”
His gaze was tormented—the kind of torment that only a genius felt when he understood everything else in the world except what was hurting me.
I didn’t want her to leave, but I couldn’t ask her to stay. So we kept living like the charade was real.
“I mean that I’m… weird. Smart, but weird. I carry a handkerchief. My social life consists of senior trivia nights. My vests are always flour stained. Or sauce stained.” I motioned to the spot she’d pointed out earlier. “And I live in my mom’s basement. I’m not the kind of guy who gets to ask the girl to stay.”
“I can’t change what you know, honey.” Tears streaked down her face now. “Which is why I need to tell you something that you don’t, and that is that I’d do it all again—I’d love your father all over again, even knowing how it ends. Every single time.”
it gave me the strength to stay. Because how could I tell Sydney I was in love with her if I was afraid to admit it to myself?
“According to Einstein, time is relative—a measurement affected by gravity. And in the eleven weeks, six days, nineteen hours and thirty-six minutes since I met you, I’ve never fallen so hard, yet my feet haven’t left the ground. The only conclusion is that gravity has changed because you’re around, and therefore time has, too.”
