Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
His cock thudded with an intensity he didn’t know was possible, straining rock-hard against his briefs like a live wire pulsing with high voltage.
“I want you to make me feel good,” he moaned. “Just like this. All the time.”
Forever.
Scar kissed him again.
Still gentle, still restrained as he walked them until Gage’s back connected with the wall.
Scar canted his hips forward, and Gage felt the outline of Scar’s cock pressing hot and insistent against his own.
Scar guided him down to the mat and eased him onto his back.
He didn’t flinch when Scar’s fingers touched the arms of his glasses. His movements were slow and cautious as he pulled them off.
The air cooled over his eyes, but it did nothing for the heat coursing through him.
“Your eyes are cloudy. More white-gray now instead of blue,” Scar murmured against his lips. “Like smoke trapped behind ice.”
Gage gasped. He knew the chemical treatments had changed his eye coloring—the same as it’d done Scar’s hair—but no one had described them like that.
Scar kissed his closed lids gently before he lowered down on top of him, covering him from head to toe, their bodies molding together, lining up their cocks as if they were meant to.
A jolt shot to his core, his dick throbbing in response to the friction, sending sparks of forbidden pleasure racing up his spine.
Scar licked his way back to his mouth. “I want your hands everywhere on me.”
Gladly.
Though he saw now by touch and sounds, he still remembered what Scar looked like before his sight was taken.
Broad shoulders that filled doorways, scarred hands used to break and bend men to his will, a body and posture that moved with street-bred confidence.
But nothing compared to that hard, intimidating scowl that used to make the entire block go quiet.
Gage had been drawn to it with private fascination.
Now, sight was memory and touch was his sight.
He slid his hands upward, not rushing, as he saw the shape of Scar’s throat in a new way, through the shallow rise and fall of his breath, the subtle tension held in his jaw even when he wasn’t snarling.
He pushed his cheek into Scar’s, letting his skin do the feeling there before he pressed along the side of Scar’s face, stroking the hard angles, the stubble biting lightly into his flesh as he inhaled the last remnants of cologne under his sweat.
He wove his hands into Scar’s hair, and several things shocked him.
It wasn’t the fact that he had so much, it was the feel of it. Softer than it had any right to be, a luxuriousness people spent thousands on in a salon.
Some strands were damp at the nape of his neck and near his temple, while the rest was thick and plush, the kind of beauty he wanted to keep touching.
“I was told it’s white now…like snow,” he whispered.
“Who told you about my hair?”
It took a minute for him to answer, as his mind fought through the arousal to formulate words.
“Elias,” he finally answered. “He said you don’t like it.”
“You been talking about me?”
Gage hummed as he continued combing his fingers through Scar’s hair, learning the pattern of it, loving the way it yielded.
Feels so good.
He lifted his hips, an unintentional movement that surprised him and caused heat to bloom over his throat.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Though you do look so sexy when you blush.” Scar buried his nose in his throat.
Gage responded by opening his legs and letting Scar settle deeper between them, closer…and more aligned.
Scar began to grind against him in a slow rhythm, as if he didn’t want to rush this, trying to make the moment last all night.
His mind reeled at being cherished instead of ravaged.
Scar’s body was vibrating, and he could sense how hard he was struggling to stay in control, the force that sat behind that gentleness like a loaded chamber.
He touched Scar’s neck, found his pulse there beating fast and erratic.
Scar wasn’t calm…he was choosing calm.
And that was all it took.
Gage surged up and collided with Scar’s mouth.
Scar rolled their hips together, creating slow friction and causing Gage’s body to ignite with an arousal so overwhelming it almost made him laugh at himself.
Not because it was funny.
But because his entire life, he thought he’d have to live a stoic, mundane existence like his parents, and be married to a timid, sweet little submissive wife. Living so careful and predictable—void of passion or excitement—that it didn’t feel like living at all.
As if that was what would make him a good man.
If he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, gotten convicted, sentenced to five years, before being kidnapped, experimented on, and tortured, he would’ve never known this feeling.
He wouldn’t know how amazing, erotic, and life-changing the male body could feel between his thighs.
Life sure worked in mysterious ways.
His hands were everywhere now, just as Scar asked.