Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“You sure, Sullivan?” The roughness of his voice was something straight out of a dirty movie, the kind of sultry hero shit I’d secretly fantasized about when I was younger. His moment of insecurity turned teasing. “’Cause if you’re not…”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Unless you want me to stop.”
And it was true. I wanted to take him apart piece by piece, to make him forget about cameras and content and curated perfection. I wanted to be the reason Adrian Hayes lost control.
And I wanted to see it happen in real time.
I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, feeling it twitch in my grasp. Adrian’s breath hitched, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud. I took a moment to just look at him—flushed and wanting, coming undone before I’d even gotten my mouth on his cock.
I leaned forward and took him into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers sliding into my hair again. Not pushing or pulling, just holding on like he needed an anchor.
I worked him slowly at first, learning what made his breath catch, what made his thighs tremble. When I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, Adrian cursed.
His fingers tightened in my hair, the slight pain sending a jolt of pleasure down my spine. I hummed around him, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he gasped, trying to hold still. “Sorry—”
I pulled off just long enough to look up at him. “I can take it,” I said, my voice a challenge.
His pupils dilated further, leaving just a thin ring of blue around black. “You sure?”
In answer, I wrapped my lips around him again, taking him deeper than before, and then deeper still. His control slipped, his hips moving in small, careful thrusts. I gripped his thighs, encouraging him, letting him know it was okay to let go.
“Maddox,” he chanted, like my name was the only word he remembered. “Fuck, I’m close. You should—”
I ignored his warning, redoubling my efforts. I wanted to taste his release, wanted to know what Adrian Hayes looked like when he came undone.
The wind and snow battering the windows felt like a soundtrack to the loss of control I felt the more I touched and tasted this man. Each gust that rattled the glass felt like it was rattling my resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
The storm outside I could handle. But this one, the one in which I wanted to spend hours, days, years giving this man pleasure, terrified me.
His hands tightened in my hair even more, a wordless warning. I glanced up, meeting his eyes as he finally let go. The intimacy of that moment—his gaze locked with mine as his release overtook him—was almost too much to bear.
Afterward, I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Adrian slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor across from me, breathing hard, looking thoroughly debauched. His hair was in utter disarray, his eyes glassy, his lips and skin swollen and red from my lips and stubble.
He’d never been more gorgeous.
“That was, uh…” he began, then seemed to lose the words.
“Yeah,” I agreed, not sure what else to say. The heat of the moment was fading, leaving an uncomfortable awareness in its wake.
And stark-raving terror.
What had I just done? What did it mean? Why the fuck hadn’t I kept my distance?
Adrian reached for me, his hand cupping my cheek. “Your turn,” he said with a soft smile that looked nothing like his Instagram grins.
I flinched. The tenderness in his touch terrified me more than the passion had.
This wasn’t supposed to be tender. This wasn’t real.
“I should head out.” I pulled away, and his hand flopped into his lap. “The storm’s easing up, and I need to get to the store in case anyone needs anything. It’ll take time for me to shovel my truck out.”
Confusion and hurt flashed across his face before he masked it with a fake-as-fuck smile. “Sure,” he said, pushing himself up from the floor. “Whatever you want.”
But what I wanted was the problem.
I wanted him—not just physically, but in ways that would hurt when he inevitably left. In ways I couldn’t afford to indulge.
So I retreated behind the walls I’d built, blocking off the part of me that wanted to pull him close and never let go. It was easier that way. Safer.
Even if it felt like tearing something essential inside me.
Even if the walls only stayed up for mere moments before he tumbled them down again.
#TooMuchFlannel #LumberjackFantasyUnlocked #KneelingButNotSurrendering #PantsDownWallsUp #Ragrets
11
#MISTLETOEAMBUSH
ADRIAN
Waking up the morning after Maddox’s extreme hot and cold routine was like waking up hungover… except without the benefit of a good drunk the night before.
Just when I’d thought he was willing to pull down his walls a little for me, he’d bolted like a scared mouse. I’d been left feeling a strangled mix of hollow and selfish.