Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Yes, sir,” I say, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrow.
I like how free I feel around him, especially about sex. How I can let loose without having to worry about him judging me or thinking I’m this guy who goes around fucking everything that moves. He likely doesn’t care considering that’s his thing anyway.
He’s so fucking hot all dressed up in that pink shirt and black tie. But right now, these clothes are fucking obstacles. Annoying fucking obstacles.
I lunge at him, kissing him powerfully. He stumbles to the other side of the hall, slamming back against my neighbor’s door.
I’m hardly thinking about that as I loosen his tie with one hand. He doesn’t fight me as I hastily open his shirt, moving from the top down. As I get a few buttons undone, I kiss from his neck to his chest.
His flesh tastes so good—tastes as good as the first time I got to enjoy it. I’m so fucking frustrated that there’s so much of this shirt left to unbutton.
“Fuck it,” he says.
He yanks the bottom of his shirt out of his pants, grips the placket and rips it open. His buttons shoot across the hall as I slide my hands around his torso and kiss down his body.
I can see why he’s fucked around town as much as he has.
This body, these muscles…it would be selfish for anyone to have these all to themselves—at least for more than a night—and I’m glad that tonight’s my turn.
God, why are we wearing so many goddamn clothes?
I grab my bow tie and yank it off before undoing the top of my shirt and pulling it open forcefully like he did, the buttons popping off in every direction.
I stand back briefly as I work to get out of it as fast as I can.
I get it down back as far as the cufflinks, where I get stuck. I struggle with the lock on them, but they’re not as easy to undo.
As I turn my attention from my failed attempts back to Travis, I see those eyes again. Filled with hunger and passion as he glances at me, up and down like he’s totally shocked.
It takes me a moment to remember we’re still in the hall.
In my obsession with his body—having him, being with him, touching all over him—I’d totally forgotten where we were and how wildly inappropriate this is. How anyone could walk out and see what we’re doing at any second.
But as he rushes me again—pushing me back against my door, my wrists still bound behind my back by the shirt’s cufflinks—I find myself lost in a series of passionate kisses once again.
He strokes one hand up my abdomen and reaches around, grabs the sleeves of the shirt, and twists so the cufflinks pull together.
He breaks our kiss and leans back. I’m lost in those hazel eyes, shimmering with the overhanging orange lights. There’s something fierce in his gaze. If I didn’t know from our other experiences how sexual that gaze was, I’d say he was about to deck me.
His mouth barely moves as he says, “You’re gonna have to tell me if I cross a line.”
I lean toward him, and I don’t know what possesses me, but I take his earlobe between my teeth—gently. I nibble on it for a moment, his deep groan assuring me he’s enjoying my work. I release his lobe long enough to whisper, “I don’t bruise easily, Travis.”
I start to back away when his lips meet mine again. He clings to the sleeves of the shirt, keeping my hands bound behind me as he kisses down my neck—licking, sucking. It’s the same passion as the first time, but there’s something even wilder about Travis now. Something I can’t quite explain.
14
Travis
“Get inside.” I reach around him, turn the key and unlock the door before shoving it open. My dick aches. My balls are so fucking full. My chest heaves in and out. He’s got me so amped up, so goddamned hungry to watch the quiet, shy man transform into the whimpering, sex-starved boy who wants nothing more than a cock in his ass and to be rode hard.
He does as I say, stumbling into his condo. It’s not fast enough for me, so I pick him up, kick the door closed behind me, and carry him toward his room. The position is awkward with his arms behind his back, but I think I like keeping him helpless like this.
“Oh shit,” I hear Jacob say as we make our way down the hall. “Have fun!” he calls, but I ignore him.
“Next time, we go to my place.” It doesn’t escape my attention I’m telling him there will be a next time, but, Jesus, he’s a hot fuck. It’s like now that I’ve had him, I can’t get enough. Why the hell shouldn’t we enjoy the sexual benefits of our partnership?