Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Frank’s house was a mish-mash of styles. It had good bones and a very spacious refurbished bathroom with modern tiles, a large walk-in shower, and underfloor heating. Frank’s bedroom was mostly a massive bed, a wardrobe and drying rack with a few T-shirts. Which made no sense, since Frank had a perfectly good yard and the DIY skills to set up a line outside to keep them from getting musty.
And then there was the kitchen area with wooden cabinets from twenty years ago, which, from the look of it, could have been scavenged from the junkyard. In the middle of the open plan living room stood an impressive table which Frank had mentioned making himself, but it had been covered in all sort of trash and electronic parts for god-knows-what. The sofa in front of the shitty TV swallowed Ezra whenever he sat down, and should have been taken to one of the endless mountains of junk around the house before it broke someone’s back.
The stew was starting to simmer, so Ezra switched off the heat, covered the pot with a lid, and swallowed, taking in the refreshed interior. If this was his place, he’d have added some personal touches, since even Frank’s trophies, which Ezra had put on a shelf previously taken up by old magazines and trash, didn’t add enough soul. Had Frank not heard about posters or artificial plants? There were a few limp bushes and wild flowers out in the space pretending to be a garden, but with the bleak hills of metal, rubber, and plastic surrounding the house on all sides, Ezra needed something to transform his prison into a home, or he’d go crazy.
No. He was already going crazy from this forced isolation and horny out of his mind yet without an outlet, his position here was as secure and steady as a chair on pencil-thin legs. And the future? What could possibly be out there for him if a killer was after him?
He hated it all.
It was time to serve lunch, but it needed to cool a bit, so for now he poured some iced tea he’d made out of cheap tea bags, lemon slices, salt, and honey into a glass.
He stepped out into the September sun and put on a casual smile for Frank’s benefit.
The mountain of a man turned to him and smiled back as he rubbed the towel over his nape. “I’m pumped out. You up to anything good?”
Ezra tried to keep it cool, but his gaze was immediately drawn to the sweat making Frank’s chest shine in the sun and his scruffy cheeks glimmer as if they’d been smothered in baby oil. “I was thinking you might need a massage after all that working out,” Ezra offered, hoping one thing would lead to another and Frank would finally break the chains of principles that held him back.
Or had he lost interest now that Ezra was no longer a prince in an ivory tower whose time needed to be bought?
Frank hummed as Ezra passed him the glass of tea. He was considering it. “Maybe after I shower. I’ve got this ache in my shoulder. Right now, you don’t want to put your hands on any of this.” He pointed to his sweaty body, and yes, Ezra would very much want to put his hands on all of that.
There was something about the scent of fresh sweat on a man that had his brain glitching until all he could think of was cleaning all that salt and moisture off with his own tongue. No wonder that when Ezra spontaneously hooked up, it usually happened at the gym.
But he couldn’t say that now. He’d never been the pursuer. No, he hunted by making himself a prize every man in existence would follow into oblivion, whether they knew that yet or not. Those who he chose to grace with his attention needed to prove themselves in one way or another, but being here at Frank’s mercy turned Ezra into a pathetic, needy worm who itched for another man’s attention. This was not who he was.
“What if I revoke my offer later?”
Frank chuckled and sipped some of the tea. “You’ve got something better to do, or is this a sweat fetish I’m just learning about?”
Yes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know…”
The spark between them shot straight to Ezra’s cock when their eyes met. “Wow, this is a really good tea. Did you make this drink?”
A clear evasion of the topic at hand, but since it was graceful, Ezra would take it.
"That’s about the only thing I can make from scratch with the food in your fridge and pantry. It will serve you much better than commercial isotonic drinks or that sugary crap that pretends to contain tea.”
“Ooh! Someone’s opinionated,” Frank said with a laugh, as if he didn’t already know that about Ezra. He drank more of the tea and now even the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing was making Ezra horny. They were here alone, with acres of junkyard between them and civilization, and oh, how he’d ride Frank’s fat dick right here, in the clearing in front of the house.