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)
For once, Z let himself trust another person and basked in the relief of not being alone. Of not having to deal with every shitty situation without any backup. It was a terrifying and exhilarating feeling. It sent a thrill down his spine. His cock pulsed so hard he had to close his eyes against the pleasure surge, but he couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips.
Connelly’s hand squeezed his ass. “Azariah.”
Fuck, that sleepy, sexy voice first thing in the morning was like ambrosia, so deep and gruff and sweet.
“Morning,” Z replied, just as silkily.
“Mmm” was all Connelly said, but his arm tightened around Z’s shoulders and both hands began a slow, sensual exploration.
Z couldn’t help but vocalize his appreciation, though he didn’t say anything intelligible. It was all just gasps, moans and mumbled encouragements. Thinking was out of the question while Connelly’s strong fingers stroked and soothed all his sore muscles and found hidden places that sent shock waves of longing straight to his cock. Within minutes he was full-out fucking Connelly’s leg like a dog and he didn’t feel any shame about it. The need had taken over, making his pulse heavy and his limbs weak.
“Jesus, Azariah,” Connelly said, his hips bucking up into empty air, uselessly.
Z lifted his face and their eyes met, Connelly’s half-lidded. Z didn’t stop his body’s undulations as he stretched up for a kiss. Connelly’s lips were soft against his, and he opened for Z’s tongue. It was gentle yet full of hunger and a yearning neither could express with words. He still couldn’t put his feelings for Connelly into words. He didn’t think the right ones existed.
Z adjusted his positioning until he was straddling Connelly so their lengths rubbed together between their stomachs, all without stopping that delicious kiss.
“Wait. Wait.” Connelly’s hands grabbed his shoulders and forced a separation.
Z fought it. “Kiss me.” He tried to lean forward, but Connelly was too strong.
“Are you sure?”
Z stared into eyes that were so honest and caring, and he knew. He just knew. He was falling in love.
Somehow, Connelly had ripped through his defenses. From that first kiss, Z had been drawn to him. Before that even.
Now those eyes were clouded with a mix of desire and worry. Z’s heart squeezed again, this time so hard it made him bite his lip against the force of it. Even though all his instincts screamed at him to be sarcastic, ruin it with a cynical statement and his customary snark, he couldn’t.
It was a moment he could remember for the rest of his life. A memory he might look back on when he was old and gray. Reminiscing about the man who had once cared about him.
“Make me feel good again, Hot Fudge. Make me feel alive.” Z breathed the words like they were his essence, the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
Then Connelly growled and pulled him in for a life-giving kiss that had the power to heal all of Z’s scars, even the ones he’d been carrying around since childhood.
“Azariah,” Connelly whispered between kisses as his hands gripped and clutched at Z’s skin and his teeth nipped and played. Every utterance of his name brought Z closer and closer to the peak.
“Yes,” Z said. “Oh God, Connelly. It feels so good.”
“This will be better,” Connelly said, wrapping a fist around both of their cocks.
Z moaned and rested his head on Connelly’s shoulder as he fucked into that devilish fist, sliding against Connelly’s hard-on.
“Oh my God,” he said. “I’m gonna come.” It was too fast. He’d wanted it to last longer, be special, but the orgasm came upon him like a tidal wave and he couldn’t hold back.
“Me too. Kiss me, baby.”
With their mouths fused together their bodies erupted in mutual bliss.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Well, I was going to make you breakfast, but there is literally nothing in your refrigerator that hasn’t gone bad, besides condiments and warm beer. No wonder you’re so thin.” Connelly shut the fridge door. He was grumpy from lack of sleep and fighting the emotions that still plagued him after last night, but he couldn’t bring it up yet. Azariah was still recovering.
“There should be cereal and Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.”
“Half a box of cereal, but your milk is sour, and Pop-Tarts aren’t breakfast, they’re dessert.”
“Yeah, the best kind of breakfast.” Azariah shook his head like Connelly was clueless.
“Nope, that’s not gonna work. Go get dressed. I need real food and you’re coming with me.”
Azariah touched his head in a self-conscious gesture and Connelly’s theories were proven. It was the sort of embarrassed action the old Azariah never would have fallen victim to. He’d been too confident and bold. But this Azariah was new and uncertain. This Azariah was full of insecurities. There was no way he’d be able to handle Connelly’s anger and worry rationally, not when everything was still so sore and tender.