Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“You’re freaking out, huh?”
I nodded. “A little. Okay. A lot.”
“Okay, then we don’t have to do anything. We can just…talk.”
“Talk? About what?”
Ezra shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“I can’t lie here and just talk to you. Are you nuts?”
He chuckled as he rolled on top of me, covering me like a yummy blanket. “There’s that smart mouth.”
“Mmm.” I whimpered when he rocked his hips, sliding his erection alongside mine. I’d never forgive myself if I came in my khakis. I’d avoided it by the skin of my teeth last time. I couldn’t do it again.
“You’re thinking too hard. This isn’t science. It’s two horny guys who recognize that they’re kind of attracted to each other. Or maybe that is science. And if it is…don’t fucking ruin this by giving me a lecture about accelerated testosterone levels.”
I gave a half laugh. “I believe you’re referring to pheromones and—”
This time when Ezra kissed me, I didn’t argue or attempt to push him away. I slipped my fingers under the elastic of his boxer briefs and rested my splayed hands on his bare ass, twisting my tongue with his in lazy circles. When I squeezed his cheeks, he rocked his hips…just a little at first. But that slight bit of friction built in a hurry.
Unthinking, I lowered his boxer briefs and wrapped my legs around him. The friction wasn’t so slight anymore. It was an urgent grind that mimicked our frenetic tongue action. I had to get these khakis off ASAP or I’d combust. The shirt too. Everything had to go.
I moved my hands and squeezed them between our tightly compressed bodies to deal with my belt and zipper. Ezra sat on his heels and helped, unzipping and pulling the fabric off while I tugged my shirt over my head. He licked his lips as if getting ready for the main course of a buffet, then dove for me.
We rolled across his gigantic bed like a couple of sex-starved teens, gyrating manically with fused lips and roving hands. I threaded my fingers through his hair, raked my nails down his back, kneaded his firm butt, and kissed him as if my life depended on it. It wasn’t until he slipped his thumb under my elastic that my internal alarm system blared a warning.
Ezra alert!
He must have sensed my misgivings. He went still before shifting to his side to face me, and gripped himself through his boxer briefs.
“We can slow down if you want, but I gotta tell you, I’m dying here. As in…I might pass out from ‘concentrated blood to the dick’ syndrome. I’m not sure I’m gonna survive this. Can I at least release the beast?”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or whimper, so I did what passed for a combination of both. “Okay.”
“You too,” he urged.
I hesitated, but immediately conceded that I was already going to hell in a handbasket, so I might as well enjoy the ride.
I wiggled out of my boxer briefs and tossed them onto his floor. “Your turn.”
Ezra’s Adam’s apple slid theatrically in his throat. He gave a short nod as he “released the beast.”
And yes, it was a beast or a python or whatever he wanted to call his very large cock. The man was hung like a horse…long and thick with a wide mushroom head. A prominent vein ran from under the crown to his base. His balls were big too. And he was hairy. Not excessively so, but he didn’t manscape.
Honestly, that turned me on more than I would have imagined. I hadn’t been with a ton of men, but it seemed like most of my gentlemen callers were smooth-shaven. Ezra’s self-confident masculine beauty was a refreshing change.
“You’re staring at the big guy, man. You’re gonna make him nervous,” he drawled, lazily smearing a bead of precum over his slit.
I grinned. His silly one-liners were what I needed to push away the last of my reserves. “Do you always refer to your penis in the third person?”
Ezra smiled as he stroked himself. “Only for special occasions. You’re…beautiful. Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
He made a show of wiping his palm on his chest before holding out his hand. I drew him toward my cock, which could have doubled as a flag pole in its current condition, and curled his fingers around my shaft. We both moaned, then shared a glance and chuckled at our timing.
He rubbed his thumb up and down my length, stroking me experimentally. His lips twitched when I hummed my approval. “Feel okay?”
“Yes. Very good.”
“More pressure or less?” He sidled closer and demonstrated both options.
“More, please.” I instinctively reached for him, gripping him firmly, and returned the favor.
“Fuck. Whatever you’re doing is good,” he groaned. “Keep doing that.”
We lay facing each other, brushing foreheads and noses while we stroked. At first, he mirrored my unhurried motion, occasionally pressing kisses on my lips. It was good. Very good. I felt oddly in tune with him in a way I never had with any other partner. And that was double-secret-sauce crazy because this was Ezra.