Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I hummed under his touch as he massaged me. Every muscle in my body that had been tensed up slowly began to relax.
He stroked my back until the world started to melt away.
I drifted to sleep under his touch, more relaxed than I’d been in a long time.
I woke to a buzzing sound so loud I shot up in bed, half worried that someone was taking a fucking chainsaw to something outside.
“Mmh,” I hummed under my breath as the buzzing came to an abrupt halt, rubbing my palms over my eyes and squinting in the copious sunlight now filtering through the blinds.
The wide-open blinds.
It couldn’t be a minute past eight in the morning. Why the fuck—
The buzzing—no, grinding—suddenly started up again, and I frowned as I tossed off the covers, standing up on the hardwood.
I could tell it wasn’t a chainsaw, now, but I still didn’t know what the hell Draven was doing.
I was still naked as I padded out to the kitchen, furrowing my brow as I found him in there, holding some contraption and glancing over at me. The kitchen smelled potently of coffee and some sort of fresh, grassy smell emanating from somewhere.
“Morning. Nice cock.”
I looked down. Yet again, I was mostly hard, this time just from natural causes. Morning wood couldn’t compete with whatever sound Draven’s contraption was making, though, and I was rapidly deflating.
I glanced at the clock above his stove and saw that it wasn’t even eight yet.
“Seven fucking fifty-one,” I grumbled. “What is that sound?”
“Coffee grinder. Or do you mean the other sound?” he asked, tapping on the top of a giant machine that had green liquid in it. “Was also making some cold-pressed green juice.”
He was already fully dressed. He had on one of his favored black work shirts, the sleeves rolled up to expose the firm strength of his forearms. He had dark denim jeans on, and he looked so awake and put-together that it almost made me mad.
“Fucking loud.”
He was still watching me, his eyes scanning my body from my cock to my face again. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a hot cup of coffee in front of you within five minutes, and all will be better.”
“I only drink iced coffee. Cold brew.”
Draven made a face. “These beans are from Italy. Their flavor profile is a lot better hot.”
I leaned on the wall, the wood surface cool against my skin. “You order your couch from Italy and your coffee from Italy?”
“You’ll like it. I promise.”
“No I won’t,” I protested. “I don’t like hot drinks. I don’t like being woken up to loud noises. I don’t like seven fifty-one in the morning.”
He set down the coffee grinder and stepped over toward me. He laced his hands around my waist, pulling me close and catching me off-guard.
It almost looked like he was moving in for a kiss, but I knew better. He leaned in, burying his nose in my hair for a moment before dipping lower and licking along my neck.
He hummed. “I did leave a mark,” he said, running his fingertips over a spot on my neck.
“You were sucking it hard enough,” I muttered.
Before I could say anything else he was moving even lower, licking my nipple and taking it between his teeth. I pulled in a sharp breath of air, my skin breaking out in goosebumps at the sudden sensation.
I couldn’t stop my cock from responding to his unexpected touch.
The problem was that he’d gotten so close that my cock was now mashed right up against the top of his thigh. He felt it and then glanced down, giving it a tight little tug before moving away.
Fuck you, Draven.
All of that sensation, given out of nowhere, then yanked right away.
“Fine. You don’t have to like hot coffee. I’ll order in some cold brew for you.”
I palmed at my cock, wishing it would go down.
“No. I’m out of here.”
“To where?”
“Red Fox. They always have good cold brew, and they have real food.”
“You’re going to the diner?” he asked. “The diner that’s about thirty feet away from the spot your stalker was in last night?”
I gave him a plain stare. “Yep. I am. And I’m not going to stop living my normal life because of freaks on the internet.”
“I’m coming with you,” Draven said.
I paused for a moment, watching as he poured his green juice into a to-go Thermos. “There’s nothing I can say to make you not come with me, is there?”
His eyes were so beautiful, but very serious as he looked up at me. “Not really, Max. No.”
As I turned to leave the kitchen he reached out and gave my ass a smack.
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” he called after me as I headed down the hall.
In a few more minutes we reconvened by the front door, where Draven picked up his black Stetson hat and popped it on.