“I’ve been thinking about your body all day. Thinking about how good it feels under my hands.” His voice is low, rough, sending chills down my spine. “Your body was fucking made for me, Blake.”
My heart races. His words ignite something deep inside me, that wild side he coaxes out of me so easily. I sigh as his lips trail down to my collarbone, and I can feel the heat between us rising fast.
There’s no foreplay save for his tongue on my nipples and his hand cupping my pussy to test my readiness. He finds me wet and aching for him, and we both moan eagerly when I sink down on his dick. Pleasure rockets through me, seizing control of my hips becauseI need tomove. I ride him fast and hard, racing toward the orgasm I’ve been craving for days. My favorite kind of orgasm—the one when his cock is so deep inside me it feels like he’s part of me and his fingers are in the place where we’re joined, stimulating my clit.
He rubs that throbbing spot and whispers filthy words in my ear, and it isn’t long before the knot of pleasure detonates and sends a rush of bliss coursing through my veins. I keep riding him until he’s shuddering, squeezing my waist as he thrusts upward and finds his release.
I would’ve preferred a lot more than a quickie, but it’s difficult to be alone (or quiet) in the house, and we can’t constantly be banging behind the boathouse like animals. Sometimes a girl needs a bed.
Wyatt pushes his hair out of his eyes, breathing hard. “I needed that.”
“Me too.” I lean in to kiss him, but all that bouncing made me a bit nauseous, so I reluctantly ease my mouth away and fumble for my shorts.
The first thing Little Spencer says when he lets us in ten minutes later is, “You have sex hair, sweetie.”
Grinning, I check my hair in the hall mirror. He’s right. It’s a disaster. I finger comb the messy strands and tuck them behind my ears while Wyatt drifts into the kitchen to say hi to Big Spencer. They set out a cheese and fruit plate on the cedar counter, but I don’t partake. I lean against the stove while the Spencers chat with Wyatt for a few minutes before Little Spencer suddenly clears his throat.
“So,” he starts, his sheepish eyes seeking out mine. “One of the reasons we invited you over tonight wasn’t just to say goodbye. We…um…sort of did something.”
My suspicious gaze travels from one Spencer to the other. “Oh God. What have you guys done?”
“Okay. Well. Hmm. So.”
“Stop speaking in monosyllabic riddles,” I order.
Big Spencer takes over for his stammering partner. “I know you wanted to listen to the guest episode and watch the video before we finalized it, but we uploaded it already.”
“And you can’t be mad at us because the video has more than a million views,” Little Spencer blurts out.
Shock slams into me. “What? What do you mean over a million?”
“We mean over a million,” Big Spencer says, chuckling. “And the podcast has about a hundred thousand downloads. It’s free to subscribe, so we don’t earn much through downloads, but—”
“You put it online without asking me?”
Anxiety ripples through me as I try to remember everything we talked about. Damn it! They were supposed to let me approve the final edited cut. And they uploaded thevideotoo? Oh God. I don’t even remember what I was wearing that day.
“What was I wearing?” I demand.
They blink at me. Even Wyatt gives me a strange look.
“What? You can’t just put a girl on the internet like that,” I moan. “I didn’t even wear makeup that day. This is so embarrassing.”
“Focus,” Little Spencer says, snapping his fingers in front of me as if I’m a parakeet whose attention he’s coveting. “Onemillionviews, Blake. And it’s through our ad account, so do you realize how much money we made? Ten thousand dollars! Half of which is yours, obviously.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“It’s the most we’ve ever made on one of our videos. And the comments are all positive.Allof them! That’s unheard of. Usually there are at least a dozen saying how annoying I am.”
“A million people listened to us talk about Darlie and Lake Tahoe?”
“Yes,” Big Spencer confirms.
I feel dazed. It’s unfathomable to me that so many people watched—andenjoyed—me and Little Spencer chatting about our silly ghost story.
“If you really want, we’ll take it down,” Little Spencer promises. “We did a shitty thing putting it up without your permission.”
“We’re really sorry,” Big Spencer says with genuine remorse.
