Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“How does that feel?”
His fingers leave me all at once, and then he stuffs them back in. I let out a howl. My body’s pulsing.
“You are close.” He gives a calculated prod, and warm cum spills down my aching-hard cock.
I lift my hips as chills sweep my skin. Through one cracked eyelid, I see my cock bob, long and angry purple. My legs tremble as cum gushes.
“You’re okay…”
I’m breathing hard and writhing as he laps at my cock.
“Luke.”
He probes deeper, and I’m nothing but the thing around his fingers—those thick probing, stuffing fingers. A guttural moan spills from my tight throat as he sucks my cock so good, I feel my balls draw up for liftoff.
“Mmhmm?”
I groan. He draws his fingers out.
“No!”
He stuffs them back in…but moves his mouth off my cock.
“Suck me off.”
He does…something in me. I’m shaking as I can feel it swelling through me, coming like a freight train. All my muscles quiver. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I throb thicker, hotter, harder as he says, “You’re going to come now.”
He sucks my tip into his mouth and presses his fingers so deep inside me, my knees draw up. Then he grazes that spot again, and the whole world bursts forth.
Five
Vance
“Hey…” His hand strokes into my hair, pushing locks up off my forehead. His low voice is near my ear as he whispers, “You okay?”
Holy shit. I’ve been annihilated. I can’t even lift my eyelids…much less move my fuzzed-out, ten-ton body. He must know, because I hear him run the sink, and then he’s by me again, lying his hand lightly over my knee. He drapes a warm, damp cloth over my cock, looking into my eyes as he drags it down my shaft…spreads it over my sac. His hand shifts my balls aside, and I groan as something cold is tucked behind them.
“Fuck.” It’s just a croak. When I wrench my eyelids open, I find him up on his knees with his arms over his chest, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
I can’t help a hoarse laugh. “Good influence, my ass.”
He grins. “I’d say that’s exactly what went down.”
For a second, he’s just smiling—and it’s this big, indulgent smile that makes me feel all good and shit. He moves in closer, seriousness scoring his features as his hand strokes lightly along my thigh.
I shut my eyes at his touch. “Feels…so good.” I let out a long, slow breath. Almost never felt this good before. Like…total bliss. Then it hits me, and my eyes flip open.
“You.” All of that, what he just did for me, and I didn’t even—
His mouth twists into a funny little smile. He knee-walks closer to me, scooping up the hand that I’ve got resting on my abs and pulling it to his pants. To his damp pants.
“Holy shit.” I laugh, and his lips press together, revealing his dimples. For a second, he looks at the floor. Then his eyes swing up to mine. They’re slightly wide.
His mouth curves in a twist that’s part amused and part incredulous. “You do that,” he says.
His palm ghosts lightly over my cock. It’s twitching to attention again, fired up by the knowledge that what he did to me made him cream his pants.
“You make me want to do things I would never do. That’s why I’m here—to work you out of me.”
Whatever warmth I felt from him cools in that moment. He holds a hand out. I clasp it, and he pulls me to my feet. With his heavy arm draped over my back, he says, “Let’s go to a bedroom.”
He keeps his gaze off mine as we move past the living room and down a small hall. The first door on the left leads to my old room. I step in first, watching his face as he takes in the décor. Fucking Power Rangers everything—mostly the Red Ranger.
Grandmom did it all the summer after fifth grade, when I came here for June and July. That May, Mom and I had encountered my sperm donor at a bagel place in Brooklyn, and he wouldn’t even look my way. I think I said something like “I hate him, and I hate Brooklyn,” and Mom had me on a bus to Jersey for a summer of pond fishing and some calculated talks with Grandpop.
I’m prepared to offer up that story. Small talk’s part of this stuff, and…I don’t know—I guess I sort of want to talk to him. Now that his secret identity has been revealed, there’s so much I’d like to say and hear. But he gives the room just one blink before fixing his gaze on the queen-sized bed.
“Lie down and get comfortable.” He says it like an edict.
Then he disappears.
Okay. Let him be the broody fucker I remember from the boat. I like broody. I like him. I don’t know why, and I don’t really care why, either.