Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Millions of them.
Furi turned and gave the lens his profile, his hair shielding and exposing him at the same time. It was fucking magical and devastating.
Syn’s stomach twisted. He didn’t feel aroused and that just made him more livid.
He wanted to feel something. Lust, warmth maybe. Jealousy with heat behind it.
But there was nothing. Only anger. And beneath it, deception.
Furi moved with the kind of ease that came from knowing what the camera wanted from him. That was what tore at Syn the most. There was no awkwardness or hesitation. He performed as if he’d stepped out of one life, then back into another without missing a beat.
His body knew the lens, hands knew timing, breath knew when to catch, when to deepen, when to let bass roll out low enough to sound private even though millions were listening.
He shed his shirt completely.
Then the scene shifted, the camera lowering, following the long lines of him as he walked through the room.
Furi stretched his long, lean body across the black satin sheets on the bed, enclosed within a canopy of sheer black curtains, the fabric falling around him in smoky panels.
The silk pants were removed after, handled with the same slow restraint.
The camera lingered over his back, on the curve and strength of his spine. Furi exhaled, deep and raw, the sound gritty enough that Syn wanted to put his fist through the screen.
That sound belonged in their bed, against his mouth.
Furi rolled slowly, arched and shifted with sensualness. The moans were quieter at first. Breathy. Then deeper. Rougher.
The camera panned down his left hip.
Syn went still.
There, in bold, beautiful typography, inked into Furi’s skin like a vow, was his tattoo.
So Full of Syn.
Syn had kissed, bitten, held, and claimed those words.
That was his fucking name.
Syn’s breath turned harsh as he flattened his hands on the counter to keep from punching the laptop until it was small pieces of nothing.
Those words had been a filthy, sweet joke Furi had said after a long night of passion, then turned it into ink.
Syn had pretended to be exasperated when he’d seen it, then had spent half the night caressing it with devotion. He loved that tattoo because it was outrageous, possessive, tender, and so completely Furi.
Now it was part of goddamn porn video.
Syn forced himself to keep watching.
He didn’t know why. Punishment, maybe. Evidence. The cop in him needing the whole scene before he rendered judgment.
Furi’s performance built in an easy passionate rhythm.
Those talented fingers were wrapped around his thick cock. His grip was firm as he stroked, slow and steady, sliding his hand from the base all the way up to the swollen head.
His long legs were spread wide, one knee bent and laid to the side, opening him up so the dark hole between his cheeks peeked out, the tight ring clenching slightly with each pump of his fist. Each stroke making his shaft twitch, pre-cum leaking from the tip and coating his fingers.
He pumped faster, hips rocking forward sensually, like some exotic dancer.
Syn sat frozen as the scene reached its end.
Furi twisted his fingers in the soft linen. His beautiful hair spilled across the side of his face, and his mouth opened on a deep, guttural moan that Syn knew too well.
Then he heard it on a single breath.
Barely audible, but no doubt in his mind, Furi sighed his name.
Syn.
Whispered it the way he did when he was buried so deep inside Syn he saw stars.
The video ended, panning away from the come spread across Furi’s abs.
The screen showed an elegant black title card offering replay, related content, bonus interviews, behind-the-scenes stills, and the next scheduled release date.
Syn didn’t move.
He was soft, not a flicker of arousal in him, not one damn spark. His body had gone cold. The resentment took up too much room for anything else. It worked up his arms, stomach, chest, throat until it hummed behind his teeth.
The dishonesty was too much.
Furi had lied.
Did he really think he could hide something this massive?
That was the part Syn kept circling like a complex crime scene.
If only Furi had come to him first, sat him down, told him they were drowning, and that snake Mack had made him an offer, and he was considering it to save them.
He would’ve said a hard no. He knew that…and so did Furi.
So instead, Furi had lied straight to his face, and Syn had already pieced together when he’d done it.
The weekend before last, Furi said he needed a couple of days away. A camping trip with his friend Doug. A chance to clear his head, and Syn had believed him because his partner wasn’t a liar.
He’d wanted Furi to go and have some fun, to get away from the shop, and bills and Syn’s own foul mood filling the house like poison.