Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Our gazes lock as we kiss, sparks igniting, a silent war of wills and desires. The air between us grows hotter, charged with secrets, threats, and unstoppable attraction. I’m everything he despises, and he’s everything I crave.
Blood pounds in my ears as he releases me to shove a hand down his pants. Popping the button, he frees himself. And just like that, his hot, swollen, massive erection is out of the closet and leaking all over me.
He’s frantic with it, his gasps spilling into my mouth, and his fingers fumbling like his body is moving faster than his brain.
A few clumsy adjustments, and he has both our waistbands shoved past our knees, our lower legs tangled, and our cocks bumping, dripping, and rubbing together.
His long fingers circle our dicks, joining us in the hot stroke of his fist. The feel of his burning hard length against mine sets my skin on fire as he works us into a consuming rhythm.
He’s as thick as me. And longer. With each brutal pump, his grip struggles to keep us fused. I want to help him. I want to take control. But I made a promise.
No touching.
Opening his lips, he feasts on my mouth and swallows all my air. My fever rises to scalding degrees. His thigh painfully rubs my tattoo, and I don’t fucking care.
Bent over me, he gives me the pace I crave, working me with his hand, his tongue plunging and taking.
I’m gone, drowning beneath the coiled power of his body, the wild force of it. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me, and that’s the worst part. He’s a loaded weapon, and I’m the target.
We grind together, flexing, panting, and working ourselves up, harder, closer, faster…
“Oh, fuck, yeah.” I feel the sudden, explosive spill of release. His. Mine. We come at the same time, groaning into a sloppy, frenzied kiss.
My eyes roll back in my head, and for a second, I pass out. Until a hand smacks my face, wrenching me back to consciousness.
“Don’t die yet.” He climbs off me and straightens his clothes. “I need answers first.”
Boneless, I can only lie there, arms trembling and vision sparking with aftershocks.
I feel high. Quiet in my head for the first time in forever. No noise. No rage. No guilt gnawing at my ribs. Just floaty and fucked-out, every inch of me humming with the electric shimmers of a really intense orgasm.
He stands over me, trying like hell to pull his pretty mask into place, but it’s useless. His body gives him away. The shifting muscles, twitching jaw, flushed skin… It’s all there. His desire to repeat what we did. The urge to deny his attraction to men. The trauma he doesn’t talk about. And the ever-present impulse for violence.
He’s a ruthless, sexual creature, and he hasn’t scratched the surface of what he wants. Or who he wants. Men. Women. Pain. Pleasure. He’s tasting it all for the first time and doesn’t know he’s starving.
Breathtaking. Addicting. He’s my new obsession.
Any second now, he’ll erect a wall between us and pretend he didn’t shoot his load all over my stomach.
Except he doesn’t, because nothing about Wolfson Strakh is normal.
Leaning down, he drags his tongue through the mess on my abdomen.
What the—?
My brain blanks. My entire body reignites, and I stare at him, stunned. Fucking stunned.
This isn’t how it goes. This isn’t what people do. Not after they dodge my hands and claim to be straight.
He pauses to lick along the grooves of my abs, and Jesus fucking Christ, I almost come from the shock alone. Then he nibbles upward toward my chest, my neck, the hinge of my jawline. By the time he reaches my mouth, I’m panting and hard again.
He doesn’t kiss me. He touches. Slow, careful palms skim up my sides, and fuck, it feels so fucking good. My skin ripples under his hands. I don’t know this feeling. I don’t know how to handle tenderness.
He works over my ribs, my hips, then settles into my chest like he’s trying to knead the damage out of me. It’s not sex. It’s not aftercare. It’s a goddamn massage.
And it’s wrecking me.
I haven’t felt this loose in years. Maybe not ever. I forgot how to relax until he showed up with these quiet hands and that deep, rumbling sigh.
My whole world shrinks to the caress of his palms and the weight of him hovering over me, not to dominate, not to destroy, but to give me this strange, foreign thing.
Gentleness.
“Goddammit.” I groan, limp and aching. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know.” His brows pinch, and he pulls back, seemingly confused.
“Time to wave that freak flag, Wolf.”
“Um, hello?” He gestures at the smudged guyliner around his eyes and the pearl earrings dangling from his ears. “I’ve been waving that flag my whole life.”