Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
The second I touch my dick, I nearly come right there, cock slick with precum, the ride rough without lube, but I’m too turned on to care.
“Fuck,” he says, then spits into his palm, takes his dick in hand, and strokes.
The muscles in his neck tighten, his face set in this blend of concentration and pleasure as he jerks himself off for me, as I do the same thing for him.
Rian really is a thing to behold—beautiful in the most masculine way—strong, intense, and in this moment, letting go in a way he looks like he desperately needs.
And I’m the one giving it to him.
“You want it?” he asks, working his cock desperately.
“Yes. Give it to me. I want your load,” I beg, and just that quickly, he shatters, crying out, biting into his bottom lip as the first spurt of his release lands on my cheek, another on my lip, then chin—his cum hot and thick, and when it drips into my mouth, I get to taste how delicious he is.
He shoots once more, landing partially on my nose and lip as my own orgasm rips out of me. It’s like every pleasure receptor in my body lights up, explodes with too many beautiful sensations to even focus. My cum lands on the porch, some on his bare foot and pants. I continue to work myself through my orgasm until my balls are wrung dry.
Rian rubs the tip of his cock against my cheek, wiping the head of his cock clean on my skin. “Look at you,” he says. “Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Christ, Abbott. Such a pretty little thing.”
I don’t answer, don’t have time, before he’s reaching out, rubbing his cum into my face. He feeds me some of it, and I take it eagerly, suck his fingers clean like this is my last meal, but most of it I wear…for him.
Actually, it’s for me too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rian
Abbott doesn’t rise right away. Is he trying to wrap his head around what we just did too? Does he regret it? I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
It’s a lot easier for me to focus on that, on him, than to let myself dwell on my own feelings. If I go down that route, I’m going to spiral—to lose my fucking shit the way I did all those years ago when Moira died.
Because this was…different. Having sex with Abbott was different from any sex I’ve had in what feels like an eternity, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a man.
I don’t give a fuck about that. What matters is how much I crave him, how much he makes me feel, and that’s exactly what I don’t want to think about, so I say, “Come on. Get up,” and hold my hand out for him.
Abbott ignores my hand, pulling up his pants and underwear, before doing the same for me. I still hold it out for him, though, and eventually, he takes it, allowing me to pull him to his feet.
I kissed him.
He sucked me off.
He jerked off for me.
I want to kiss him again.
“You’re good?” I ask, trying to keep this transactional, not allowing myself to look him in the face.
“Yes.”
“We should go check dinner.” I turn away from him, but am stopped by his hand on my face, by Abbott turning my head so I’m looking at him.
I shouldn’t let him control me like this. I should walk away so he knows this wasn’t about anything more than both of us getting our nut, but I don’t believe that, and he’s too smart to believe it either.
So when Abbott doesn’t let go of my face, instead leaning in to press his lips softly against mine again, I don’t stop him.
I kiss him back, tasting my release on his lips, on my tongue, and craving more of it.
More of him.
“I don’t regret it,” he says when he pulls away. “No matter what happens.”
My nape tingles, my heart pounding against the wall of my chest.
Goddamn this man. This beautiful, kind, sad man. I didn’t see it at first—the sadness. Maybe because he hides it well or maybe because I’ve spent too long blinded by my own sadness, but it’s there—thick and weighty inside of him.
A sort of sadness that matches my own.
“I don’t regret it either.” How can I? It was the first moment of true ecstasy, of true belonging that I’ve felt in a long time.
“You smell like me.” I smile and kiss him again. “Like my cum.” Like he’s mine. But he can’t be mine, and I’m not supposed to want him to be.
“That was the point.” Abbott returns my grin. “I want to smell like that for the rest of our time together. Like I belong to someone.”
My heart stumbles, nearly dies, then picks up again, my body flushing hot to do exactly what he said…to claim him. Mark him. Make him mine.