Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Gone is the amusement.
Now he glares at me. Like I’m something to be consumed. As though he’ll test out whether or not his teeth will cut into my skin and draw blood. Just the thought of his lips on my neck has heat flooding straight to my damn dick.
Unbelievable.
Shot glasses clank onto the bar top, saving me from admiring this beautiful douchebag a second longer. I pick up the first of two in front of me and knock it back. By the time I finish the second one, Dante’s done the same and ordering more. As soon as the liquor settles in my gut, my muscles relax. It makes me realize how on edge I’ve been the entire day. I sure as hell needed a drink. Maybe getting shitfaced will make me feel better about this terrible day.
We blow through another couple of rounds, neither of us speaking. I’m sure as hell aware of the heat that seems to burn from him into my side. When he runs a finger down my spine, I sit up straight, shooting him a nasty glare.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, hating that my dick begs for quite the opposite.
“You must be tired of lying to yourself all the time, Sheriff. So fucking tired.”
“You don’t know shit about me.” I angle my body away from him, searching the crowd for Kian and Cato. Sure enough, they’re in the middle of the dance floor, grinding on each other, drawing a crowd.
“I know you’re a closet gay.” His hot breath tickles my ear as he leans in behind me. “Obsessed with that little cutie on the dance floor.”
Hearing him refer to Kian as a cutie pisses me off. “Fuck off, Kincaid.”
“We could fuck off together.” His finger once again teases down my spine. “I could mellow that attitude for you.”
Jerking away from his touch, I damn near topple off the stool. The room spins for a moment, reminding me of why I don’t get drunk. I make stupid ass decisions.
“Stay the hell away from me,” I throw back at him, charging away from the bar toward the restrooms.
I push inside and head straight for the sink. After splashing cold water on my face, I dry it and take a hard look at my reflection.
What am I doing here?
I came to see Kian and yet I’m verbally sparring with my new enemy.
I’m fucking everything up.
Dante
He’s gone for ten minutes before I decide to go after him. I’ve never seen a guy so twisted up about what he wants in all my life. Who the hell cares if he’s gay? He seems to think the world will fucking end if people find out. Someone needs to tell him to man the fuck up.
Apparently, vodka has nominated me as the man to tell him.
I storm into the bathroom, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when I stop dead in my tracks. His features are no longer angry. Instead, he looks so fucking lost. A scared, confused boy, unsure what to do or where to go.
I may not know how to handle alpha assholes.
But boys are my specialty.
“Into the stall,” I bark out, my voice commanding and unwavering. “Now, boy.”
His entire body stiffens as he jerks his head my way, brown eyes round with shock. I don’t give his drunk ass time to react. Walking over to him, I grab him by the belt and draw him to me so our faces are inches apart.
“Denial is a mean bitch,” I rumble. “Who are you if you’re hiding the most important part of yourself?”
Dark lashes blink at me. I know he can’t be but a few years younger than me, but right now, he’s inexperienced and out of his element. Using this to my advantage, I tug on his belt, drawing him with me into the handicapped stall. I shove the door closed and flip the lock.
“W-What are you doing?” he rasps out, his greedy eyes unable to stay away from my lips.
“Giving you what you desperately need.”
He frowns, his chest heaving. “What’s that?”
“Freedom to be yourself. No judgment.” My hips pin against his, trapping him between me and the wall, and I delight in the groan that escapes him when our hard dicks press together through our clothes. “I may not be your friend or know you, but I know what you need.”
His lids fall closed as he leans his head against the wall. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Do what, Sheriff?” I rumble, brushing my lips along the column of his throat. “Suck your dick so hard you pass out?”
“Fuck,” he mutters, his hips rotating, chasing the friction of my dick rubbing against his.
“Beg for it, boy.” I lick his salty neck and then nip the warm flesh. “Tell me what you need.”
His head drops forward, his plump lips parted with desire. “I need not to feel so alone.”