Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jamil said, smiling, but his voice was off. He could barely hold back the confession that made his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. I adore you. Don’t leave me again.
He didn’t say anything. But he wrapped his arms around Rohan’s strong back, fingers roaming over the warm, bare skin, and held on.
Just for a little while.
When Rohan’s mouth brushed against his, Jamil parted his lips eagerly, letting Rohan’s tongue in and sucking on it. Every suck sent a new wave of bliss through his body and he moaned against Rohan’s mouth, pulling him in, tighter and tighter until it was no longer possible.
They toppled onto the bed, Rohan’s hips pushing between Jamil’s thighs, his heavy body pinning him against the soft mattress, stomachs and erections pressing flush against each other.
Jamil wrapped his legs around Rohan’s hips, looked Rohan in the eye, and said,
“Get in me.”
Rohan’s dark eyes became glassy.
He stared at Jamil for a long moment, his muscles stiff and his face tense.
“Yes,” he said, his voice ringing with tension. Desire pulsed between them, charging the air, bringing a flush to Jamil’s cheeks.
Rohan’s hands stroked Jamil’s bare thighs, kneading the thin, sensitive skin there, before wrapping around Jamil’s aching, leaking cock.
Jamil moaned, his vision darkening. He could only gasp as Rohan stroked him, milking his cock for its natural lubricant until he gathered enough to stroke his slippery fingers over Jamil’s hole. The high-pitched sound that left Jamil’s lips would be more suited for holo-porn than the room of a crown prince. Jamil didn’t care. He spread his legs shamelessly and allowed himself to enjoy the wonderful feeling of having his hole touched and kneaded. When a thick finger slid into him, he made an encouraging noise and spread his legs wider.
“Holy fuck,” Rohan said breathlessly, looking at him with dark, glazed eyes. Jamil arched, enjoying Rohan’s hungry gaze on him almost as much as Rohan’s fingers moving in his hole. Almost. It had been too long. Truth be told, he’d always enjoyed getting fucked, far more than he liked being on top. But Mehmer had wrongly assumed that, as the Crown Prince, he would want to be in charge in the bedroom too. Jamil hadn’t disabused him of the notion, ashamed to admit his own preferences, so he had rarely gotten to experience this.
It hadn’t felt this good with Mehmer anyway. With Rohan, there was no shame, the intimacy between them killing any embarrassment he might have felt. With Rohan, Jamil could moan all he wanted, push back onto Rohan’s fingers and fuck himself on them without being self-conscious about it. With Rohan, he didn’t have to be the Crown Prince; he could be just a man, unashamed of his desires. He didn’t have to hide how much he loved being fucked, how badly he needed it.
When Rohan finally pushed his cock inside, a sob left Jamil’s lips, the sensation of being filled making his toes curl with pleasure.
“Holy shit,” Rohan grated out, stroking Jamil’s smooth thigh reverently, as his unfocused black eyes roamed between the place their bodies were connected and Jamil’s face. “Look at you, sweetheart.”
Jamil realized that Rohan had meant it literally when Rohan merged their minds, allowing Jamil to see and feel what he felt. Jamil whimpered, his pleasure doubling as he now could feel how tight he was around Rohan’s cock, how much the sight of Jamil’s wantonly spread legs turned Rohan on, how badly Rohan wanted to just fuck him hard, pound him into the mattress, make him beg for his cock. “You love this, don’t you?” Rohan said hoarsely, pulling out and watching as Jamil whined and tried to impale himself on his cock. “You love being fucked. You love cock. You want cock for breakfast, lunch and dinner, night and day, up your ass and deep down your throat, don’t you?”
“Please,” Jamil mumbled, feeling delirious with need. “Please, please, please.”
A muscle clenched in Rohan’s cheek. Rohan’s hands took his hips and spread his thighs even wider. Their eyes locked, Rohan slammed back into him.
Jamil cried out. “Ah! More.”
Rohan gave him more.
After that, it was a blur of pleasure. Jamil was only vaguely aware that he was moaning, meeting every hard thrust, his fingers digging into Rohan’s muscular buttocks in order to pull him deeper into himself. They found a brutal, broken rhythm that was all need, their lust feeding off each other, the merge urging them to be closer, deeper, more, more, more.
They rolled all over the bed, fucking in every possible position, trying to sate the maddening desire to be one. It was never enough.
At some point, Jamil ended up on top, fucking himself on Rohan’s cock.
Rohan stared up at him with black, glazed eyes as Jamil rode him with shameless abandon, Jamil’s head thrown back and his mouth open in a soundless cry. Gods, it felt so good, so unbelievably good, the thickness of Rohan’s cock inside him incredibly satisfying. He didn’t care that his thighs were already trembling with the effort; he needed this.