Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
And he wanted it again.
Again and again and again, until he couldn’t think of anything but Brand and everything Brand demanded of him, wanted of him.
If only the man didn’t thrust him away, and retreat behind that icy, proper façade.
His tie loosened, then slipped from around his throat like a licking tongue. Ash reached up with a shaking hand, and brushed his fingertips to the unforgiving, stern line of Brand’s mouth.
“Brand,” he whispered.
Brand stilled, gaze darting to his face. His lips parted against Ash’s fingers…before he continued undressing him, flicking over the buttons of his shirt one at a time. “Yes, young Master?” he murmured, each word a kiss to Ash’s fingertips.
Before he could lose his nerve, Ash pushed himself up, letting both coats and waistcoat fall away.
And kissed Brand, pressing his mouth soft and questioning against the older man’s, just a single light brush before he pulled back quickly, trembling, waiting to be thrust away.
Brand regarded him quietly, fingers paused over a button just below his ribs. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to Ash’s mouth; in the silence Ash’s heartbeat was a roaring drum, a wild primal beat that made him feel as though the earth turned and moved to his rhythm. Brand’s hands fell away, falling to the bed to either side of Ash’s hips.
“Ah,” he said, a rough, husky edge in his voice. “So that’s how it’s to be, then.”
Before he caught Ash’s chin gently in gloved fingers, tilted his head up, and captured his mouth with those stern and commanding lips.
That feeling came rushing back—that feeling when Brand had pinned him against the door and drowned him in almost oppressive heat, dominating Ash with his sheer bulk alone. That feeling of being weak and yet not afraid; of being overpowered and so entirely overwhelmed. It shot through Ash in warm, sighing sparks, until he felt as though he were flesh stitched from fireflies—and each slow, plying caress of Brand’s lips made the light inside him burn, until he was all warmth and melting softness to that firm and dominating touch.
He tilted his head, fitting his mouth to Brand’s—only for Brand to still him with a tighter grasp on his chin, fingers unfurling to cup his jaw and hold just tight enough for a warning, just tight enough to keep Ash in his place with a promise of strength held in check. Trembling, Ash kept himself still, pliant, yielding, letting Brand do what he wished as Brand kissed him in slow, intimate invasions. One shuddering breath at a time, Brand delved deeper and deeper into his mouth; one slick stroke after another he tasted Ash, explored him, exposed every depth of him to a teasing tongue and the sharp sting of teeth that nipped and tormented his mouth until pain became sensitive pleasure and every throbbing pulse of his lips radiated out to every heated point of sensation on his body.
Please, Ash begged silently—and Brand responded as if he could sense that plea in every sigh, in every gasp. With a confident touch Brand tumbled Ash back to the bed, pinning him there with his weight, his bulk, the vivid pressure of masculine heat and hard-packed muscle and the sheer size of him that made him a mountain next to the small and whispered grain of sand Ash felt like. Ash arched against him just to feel that bulk pinning him, only to tense, biting back a cry as Brand’s mouth marked firm, claiming bites, suckling kisses, from his jaw to his throat. Those hands took control of him again, firmly slipping the buttons of his shirt free, tearing it away, ripping his undershirt over his head until his chest was bare to the touch of gloved fingers.
The roughened fabric of the kid gloves made fire and wildness of his skin with slow, skimming touches that trailed down his ribs, his waist. Pure torment, winding him tight as a string around a spool as Brand explored him with an almost mocking delicacy. Where Ash was gasping and eager, Brand was slow and deliberated, drawing out every moment as his fingertips shaped the planes of Ash’s trembling, sensitive stomach; the contours of his pectorals, the hardening rises of his nipples. Every touch shot electric through him, rousing him with a need he couldn’t endure when he just…he just…
He just didn’t want to feel alone right now.
“Brand,” he begged, burying his face against that soft wash of sandy hair, tangling his fingers in cool strands, grazing his mouth against the curve of Brand’s ear. “Brand.”
The older man stilled, fingertips just brushing the lower curves of Ash’s nipples. He pushed himself up, looking down at him through gleaming lenses that caught the moonlight and threw it back in cold edges. He slipped one hand downward—feathering, taunting, ever teasing and controlled…only to mold his hand between Ash’s thighs.