Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Fuck, yes.
Connelly’s pulse sped until it was hard to catch his breath, so he lifted Azariah onto the counter. Azariah gasped a curse, then pulled him in again for another long, deep kiss. Connelly pressed close. Those sinewy thighs squeezed his hips tight and he was reminded of just how strong Azariah was beneath the veil of soft frailty, just how powerful. The sharp points of those killer heels dug into his ass as if spurring Connelly on, so he refocused on their kiss. Their tongues danced, teeth nipped and lips caressed. All the while Connelly raked his fingers over Azariah’s black leather-clad legs. And then Azariah’s long fingers were in his hair again, pulling, tugging, clutching.
They were just getting warmed up and already it was worth the long wait downstairs. Hell, it was worth all the agonizing confusion of the past couple days. He gripped Azariah’s baggy T-shirt and pushed it up enough to slide his hands beneath and feel his soft skin. The moan that rumbled in Azariah’s chest echoed all the way down Connelly’s spine. Azariah bit his jaw once, quick and hard, then pulled back and whipped his shirt over his head.
Barely a breath and they were kissing again, feasting on each other like nothing else in the world mattered. It was crazy intense. More intense than anything Connelly had ever experienced with anyone before, desperate and irrational and fucking amazing. Like life and death and heaven and hell all balled up together into infinity and filled with everything golden and light, shining brighter than the sun. There was no way that anything this fantastic could last. Anything this hot, this dazzling, would blaze with so much scorching heat they’d be lucky to get through it without scars.
Azariah’s nails scratched beneath the hem of his shirt and then dipped into the waist of his jeans to claw his ass. Connelly shivered. Fuck his usual cautious nature. Sometimes scars were good. They meant you’d lived, experienced, and learned.
They meant you had stories to tell—even if you never said a word.
Lifting his arms, he allowed Azariah to pull his shirt off, releasing him only long enough for the fabric to slip over his head. They didn’t speak; they didn’t need to, they were so in sync—every move and reaction seemed choreographed. More natural than any porno he’d ever seen, and more rehearsed than a one-night stand should have the right to be.
With his blood pumping like wildfire through his veins and his cock aching for more, he stopped thinking. He shut his brain off, reached between them and unfastened Azariah’s pants. Azariah moaned and lifted his hips enough for Connelly to tug the leather down until his cock sprang out.
Connelly caught his breath at the sight. Azariah was glorious, cut and thick, the head glistening in a way that made Connelly’s mouth water. Everything was smooth and hairless, even his balls, which were full and taut as if Azariah might explode at any second. Connelly moaned as he swallowed the length without preamble, and Azariah’s taste flooded his senses. Perfection.
“Fuck.” Azariah trembled. Only the thud of his elbows hitting the counter told Connelly that he’d collapsed.
Flicking his gaze up enough to meet those glorious dark eyes, Connelly wrapped a fist around the base of Azariah’s length and swirled his tongue over the head. Azariah’s lips parted and his hips flexed but he didn’t say another word. And that was okay, because the huffing, gasping, half-concealed moans were driving Connelly crazy.
Azariah’s cock was gorgeous, not that he expected any less, but the girth was surprising—and exciting. He didn’t bottom on a first date—hell, he didn’t bottom on a tenth—so he really shouldn’t be dreaming about it now. Especially when the man’s spicy taste was so pure and concentrated at the slit it was like sipping from a goddamn fountain of bourbon. He licked at it again before closing his eyes and gliding the thickness farther along his tongue until it hit the back of his throat.
Connelly was pretty damn skilled at giving head and had perfected the deep throat way before he’d had his anal cherry popped. So he didn’t gag, didn’t even stutter, he just opened his throat, laved the hot flesh, and breathed through his nose.
Azariah’s fingers found his hair again and the guy wasn’t shy about his pleasure. He held Connelly in place, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. With every inch and retreat his moans got louder and louder.
Connelly was lost in the act. It had been a long time since he’d sucked cock. He loved it. Probably because he was good at it. He enjoyed having a hot length of steel between his lips. He loved the taste, the feel of it. It was a power trip. He was especially enjoying Azariah because even though the man was smaller, thinner and wore makeup, he was fierce and confident in a way none of his previous lovers had ever been. Azariah knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it, and right now what he wanted was Connelly’s mouth swallowing his cock.