Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“It’s okay. I promised to go to church again with the folks so I’ll need to leave soon.”
Fitch’s cock was nestled against his ass, hard and insistent. Ansel pushed back against it. “It doesn’t feel like you’re in any hurry.”
Fitch moaned. “I told you. I have no control over it. Whenever you’re close, my body goes mad.” He underlined his words by thrusting his dick into Ansel’s crease.
Ansel rolled to straddle Fitch. “We don’t have time.”
“It’s so hot when you do that.”
He smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think you’d like it if I really topped you.”
With hooded eyes, Fitch asked, “You top too?”
Ansel tilted his head. Was that interest he saw? Wow. In his experience the really straight ones avoided bottoming like it was the most terrifying thing in the world.
“Not very often. Most guys look at me and assume I’m a bottom.”
Fitch’s brow furrowed. “I guess I’m guilty of that. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked past Ansel like he was deep in thought.
“Don’t worry, I like bottoming. I like bottoming for you a whole hell of a lot.” He stroked Fitch’s still-hard shaft to add weight to his claim. The distraction worked. Fitch regained focus and sat up to surround Ansel with his arms. They played leisurely even though both of their bodies were primed and desperate.
“When can I see you again?” Fitch asked when they broke apart.
“I don’t know. I’m working double shifts at the shop all week to cover for a coworker. As it is, I’ll be missing three rehearsals.”
“And I’m busy with this remodel project. I wouldn’t be able to get back into the city during the week anyway.” Fitch nibbled his ear.
“Saturday night again?”
“If I call, will you answer this time?” Fitch stopped his assault on his neck and looked into his eyes.
He had to swallow the giant lump of guilt at the worry he saw there. “I’ll answer. And if I can’t, I’ll call back.”
“Okay.”
Fitch got dressed in silence and this time Ansel walked his lover to the door. Their goodbye kiss was full of promise. It made him consider all kinds of crazy, stupid things. Things he’d given up a long fucking time ago. Happy endings and peace-on-earth type of shit that just didn’t happen for people like him.
Nothing in his life had proved him wrong yet.
But for the four hours after Fitch left, Ansel slept without dreaming, without worries.
He slept like he’d never slept before.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fitch called after church. He tried not to think of it as a test, but it was. If Ansel didn’t answer, he could be pretty sure about the potential future of their relationship. And this time he’d let go.
“Hey.” Ansel sounded hurried when he picked up on the second ring.
Fitch ignored the rush of relief that left his lungs. “I’m on my way to brunch with the family, but I wanted to hear your voice.”
Even over the phone he knew Ansel was rolling his eyes when he spoke, “Stalker. I’m working here.”
Fitch chuckled. “Okay, bye.”
About an hour later, his phone buzzed with a text. His mother squinted at him. They weren’t supposed to have their phones at the dinner table, but he’d forgotten it was in his pocket.
“Sorry.” He pulled it out to switch it off but checked the message first.
You gave me a hickey, jackass.
He struggled to hide his amusement, and embarrassment, as he silenced his phone and shoved it back into his jeans.
“Something funny?” Meg asked. Nosy brat.
“Nope.”
Later, while Meg was helping in the kitchen, Fitch sent a quick reply.
I had to wear long sleeves to cover the scratches on my arm. It’s fucking hot today.
Ansel’s answer was an emoticon with its tongue sticking out.
Things were quiet for the rest of the evening. They did a good job of keeping his father’s mind off of the appointment. Fitch directed the conversation toward sports when he could, and his sister prattled on about school more than she ever had before. By the time they left, his dad was fast asleep in his favorite chair and their mom was whispering her thanks.
If he felt any misgivings as he hugged his parents goodbye and kissed his sister on the cheek, he ignored them. There really was nothing to tell—yet. He still had time.
He wasn’t lying.
Ansel called around ten and they’d chatted while he rode the train to the club.
The next morning Fitch woke to find two messages from Ansel.
Going onstage soon. Wish you were here.
Slow night. Only the weirdos party on Easter.
The last one was delivered at two in the morning. Fitch looked at the clock and decided not to wake Ansel with a call. He sent a text instead.
Hope you had sweet dreams, Angel.
He went to work with a little swagger in his step and the crew noticed.
“Looks like someone finally got laid,” one of the welders said.