Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Seth rose up, his back pressing against Collin’s front. Their mouths collided in a frantic clash of tongues, and the sudden intensity of Seth’s strokes propelled me to the cusp of orgasm. Collin pounded harder, each hard drive pushing Seth deeper inside me.
Collin’s eyes squeezed shut. His body trembled. The pace of his pumping staggered, losing rhythm. He was close. So was I. We lunged together, pulled apart, ramming over and over. Three bodies rocked in sync, coaxing a blissful heat through my core.
Sweat beaded over my skin. My pulse thundered past my ears, and my muscles tensed for the rush.
On the next thrust, Seth fell out. Shit. I wriggled my hips, tried to nudge him back in, but he wasn’t hitting my opening. I reached down to guide him, and my fingers met a sagging condom. What the hell?
I arched up and looked down my body. Seth’s cock lay against his leg, the condom clinging halfway off. Motherfuck.
When I caught his eyes, he glanced away and worked the condom back in place.
And they thought I was soft? Might’ve been humorous if I weren’t seconds away from kneeing him in the gay nuts. The fucking liar had banged me before without incident. But thinking on it, in the past I’d arrived after the foreplay. Perhaps the blow job had pushed him past his tolerance level?
Collin stilled, his hand wrapping around Seth’s fingers, attempting to stroke him back to hardness. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Just give me a minute.” Seth looked everywhere but at me, his eyebrows lowering as he jerked on his deflated dick.
I drew a deep breath, the awkwardness palpable, the mood soured. No need to ruin the night for Collin. I climbed to my knees and moved to their sides. With a palm on Collin’s cheek, I turned his head and kissed the cleft on his whiskered chin. “I’m gonna go.”
His pale eyes turned to glass, and his hands gripped Seth’s hips as if to push him away.
I grabbed his forearm. “Finish.” I softened my expression. “Please?”
A tic jumped in his rigid jaw, and he glanced down where he was still seated in Seth’s ass. If I lingered, my presence would only crowd his heart with more remorse. His guilt over our pressured marriage was so heavy in moments like this it pulled on my soul.
I grabbed my clothes from the floor and darted from the room without looking back, hoping like hell he listened for once.
As I walked the length of the seven-thousand square-foot condo, my bare feet echoed in hollow slaps along the two-story ceilings. Collin and I designed the interior of our five-million-dollar home, and we’d earned every damned penny that went into it. But sometimes the high-quality fixtures, the lush furnishings, and the full-service amenities were unwanted reminders that we were on a power-hungry path to becoming just like our parents.
Born three months apart with no siblings, we’d spent thirty-seven years bending to our parents’ political agendas. The Andersons and the Baskels not only blackmailed us into marriage, they reigned over our careers from their high-backed chairs on the board of Trenchant Media.
I stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water and headed to my bedroom. We didn’t give a shit about wealth. Collin hosted his political television program The Anderson Angle because he believed in his ideas. His fresh, forward-thinking commentary swayed fiscal policies and expertly guided decision makers on the nation’s economy.
At the top of his company, I led the Trenchant Times division, overseeing the digital and print operations. For ten years, I’d stubbornly fought the board to deliver neutral, hard-hitting facts to the people, battling the self-fulfilling conglomerate because, dammit, someone needed to do it. Yeah, it was an arrogant undertaking, but not completely benevolent. My pursuit was personal; my vendetta fermented in hatred.
I threw the bundle of clothes into the bedroom closet, and one of the heels dented the wall with a satisfying thunk. When our parents discovered Collin’s sexual orientation during the rise of his popularity, we were forced to sign a contract that kept his secret buried beneath Trenchant’s conservative image. The contract stipulated everything from our marriage and careers to who we voted for and how we dressed.
If our parents knew what Collin was up to at that very moment—my fingernails dug into my palms—they would end our careers and wrongfully send Collin to prison with purchased evidence.
I would do what was needed to protect him, despite the painful shortcoming in our marriage. A marriage that left me yearning, night after night, for an intimate connection that couldn’t be sated by a shared partner. God, I longed for a connection that was given, not bought, despite the risks. The kind of breathless intoxication I fantasized about with a faceless man on a sportbike and had no hope of obtaining at the end of Seth's limp dick.