Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Dreams of a future with the two people he would give anything to keep.
Ricky pulled his knees toward his ribs, opening himself wide. “Eyes on me.”
Falling into that heated gaze, Martin pushed his hips and sank into the nirvana of Ricky’s body.
His breath cut off, and Ricky moaned deep in his throat. They trembled together, adjusting to the overwhelming sensations.
Ricky’s hand flew to his cock, stroking himself. Martin slid out and pressed back in, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“Seven years.” He thrust, digging deep, catching a desperate rhythm. “It was a long fucking time to wait for this. But so worth the wait.”
“Holy fuck, Martin.” Ricky panted, quickening the pump of his hand. “You’re huge. I feel you in my stomach. Fucking feel you everywhere.”
Martin wrapped a fist around Ricky’s grip and quickened the pace of his strokes, sliding their fingers up and down in sync with the frantic drive of his hips.
“Slow down.” Ricky gasped, flexing his glutes and using his legs to meet every thrust.
“I own you.” He grabbed Ricky’s waist and slammed himself deeply, mercilessly, stuffing that ass, making damn sure Ricky felt him. “You’re fucking mine. Every touch, every kiss, every drop of your come belongs to me.”
“I love you.”
Ricky’s quiet words breathed into him, resuscitating him from the darkness. The tempo of his hips faltered, and his blood hummed with life.
The solid body beneath him anchored him to the present, providing dependable, stable footing. Ricky had been here all along. Martin’s compass in the storm.
“No one’s ever said those words to me.” Martin assumed his dad had loved him, but it had never been voiced.
“I’ll never stop saying it.” Ricky grasped his neck and hauled him in for a kiss. “Fucking love you.”
His tongue slid against Ricky’s, curling and flicking with the depth of his feelings. He was infatuated with the taste of Ricky’s mouth, the feel of his magnificent physique moving beneath him, the heat of his skin, and the sexy Latino glow of it.
More than that, he was addicted to Ricky’s devotion, his commitment to their friendship, and the effort he put into it.
He loved everything about this man. Always had. Always would. He’d loved Ricky for seven years.
With an arm between them, he took Ricky in hand, stroking him, grinding into him, desperate to give himself entirely to this.
“I need your come.” He rubbed Ricky harder, savoring the friction of Ricky’s clenching ass as they locked eyes. “Give it to me.”
Ricky’s mouth opened. His pupils dilated, and his cock pulsed in Martin’s hand.
“Martin, oh, fuck. Oh, Jesus, I’m coming!” Ricky ground his hips, bearing down on Martin’s thrusts as he ejaculated ropy strings of come across his chest.
Martin followed him over the edge, hammering erratically while staring into his eyes. “Always loved you. With everything I am.”
The intensity of his climax stole his breath and exploded stars across his vision. He came and came and came until there was nothing left. All of him was in his best friend—his body, his love, and his life.
“Definitely worth the wait.” Ricky rolled them, putting them on their sides, nose to nose, legs entangled, and breaths mingling.
“I don’t deserve you.” He took Ricky’s mouth, their tongues rubbing through a satiated kiss.
“I’ll remind you of that the next time you’re a dick.”
“Don’t I know it.” He kissed Ricky again, devouring the intimacy. “Thank you.”
In the isolation of their prison cell, he sank into Ricky’s embrace in a way he never had before. Hands roamed. Lips touched and held. Cocks brushed. Gazes caressed, and Martin fell. Mind, body, and soul. He gave it all to Ricky, and Ricky gave in return.
In that lazy span of an hour, they had more than they could’ve ever wanted. But they weren’t complete.
“I’m going to get our girl.” He slid out of bed and grabbed his jeans.
“Our girl isn’t going to listen to you.” Ricky joined him, pulling on his own clothes.
“She will.” He shoved on his shoes. “I’m going to explain everything.”
“Everything?”
He turned and looked his best friend in the eye. “We have a decision to make.”
Martin entered Tula’s cell without knocking, his pulse steady, his gait determined, and his eyes set on his goal.
Tula sat on the end of the bed, smoking a cigarette. She glared at him, her face a beautiful shade of fury, before turning away and denying him the view of her eyes.
Martin couldn’t remember the last time she’d smoked. She kept some cartons around to use as currency to buy meals and supplies, but she’d dropped the nicotine habit when she started hanging out with him and Ricky.
Ricky followed him in, shut the door, and leaned against it.
As Martin approached her, he marked her stiff spine, rigid jaw, and the flex of her fingers. She had every right to be pissed at him, and he would let her have her anger as long as she listened to what he had to say.