Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Dane, who’d put away his glasses and kneeled in front of him, glanced up once the pants and underwear were off. The way his eyes clung to the cock in front of him made Jag imagine all the times he’d rubbed his face against the hardening length, licked Jag’s balls, and sucked in the tip before taking the whole cock in with a soft grunt of satisfaction.
Despite the throbbing pain in his side, arousal stirred in Jag like molasses placed over heat.
“Me? You’re the ripped one,” Dane said with a smile ghosting across his lips.
Jag sat down with a sigh of relief. At least the pain in his side was subsiding thanks to the pills he’d taken. “‘Ripped’?”
Dane shrugged and gave Jag’s pec a gentle pinch. “Oh yes. I can see every muscle under your skin. I like that,” he admitted before rising and dipping a washcloth in the water gathered in the sink.
Jag chuckled at the sudden touch and reached out to pat Dane’s thigh. “Not that practical in winter, but as long as you like it, I’m happy.”
Dane looked at him as he squeezed most of the moisture out of the cloth, and shifted, creating the illusion of Captain America winking at Jag from his tattooed arm. Heat spread in Jag’s chest, but he didn’t move and waited as Dane stepped between his spread thighs and moved the soapy fabric to his cheek.
“Interacting with you is so weird. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Jag ran his hands up Dane’s sides, in awe that he was allowed to touch a man with such soft skin and plump flesh, and such unusual eyes and hair. “I will try to be less weird,” he promised.
“No, I meant that in a good way. Kinda,” Dane muttered, washing sweat off Jag’s features before taking it to his neck. He seemed hesitant in the way he held the cloth and licked the corner of his lips, so Jag stayed still, letting him think.
“I guess... men who are wild beasts aren’t generally as nice as you,” Dane finished, peeking at Jag for the briefest moment.
Jag grinned and leaned forward to kiss Dane’s belly through the fabric. “It’s hard not to get wild around you. But you say that as if you actually met many beasts.”
Dane stilled. His flesh twitched under Jag’s touch, but after the agonizing moment when he could have pushed Jag away, he instead moved the warm fabric to his shoulders, and then lower, down his back in a hypnotizing caress that was so very new yet welcome. Other than when Frank had saved him, Jag hadn’t allowed anyone to take care of him since he’d left his mother’s custody, but if Dane wished to do this for him, and groom him like a wild animal might do to its pack member, then what was the harm?
“Yeah, well… my taste in men is usually abysmal. The ones I like aren’t good for me, and the ones I know would make good partners… well, they do nothing for me.”
“How so? What’s bad about the men you like?” Jag couldn’t help himself and slid his fingers under the hem of Dane’s top. He wanted to know everything about his man. To love him, please him, and make him moan. Be the perfect one for him.
Dane stalled again, as if he were hesitant whether to let this continue, but in the end the wet cloth crisscrossed Jag’s back before returning to his throat. “They tend to be assholes. But they turn me on regardless. I’m a hopeless case,” he said, meeting Jag’s gaze with a tense smile.
The pale lashes on one of his eyes looked almost translucent, and watching them move up and down made Jag’s heart throb with the desire to make this man his again. And if that was what it took, he’d make it his life’s mission to keep Dane satisfied. “What turns you on about them? Do I do some of those things?” He let his fingers explore the warm skin under Dane’s top and roam over the soft hair. Dane’s stomach went tense, as if he wasn’t sure what to do, but he didn’t attempt to cut short Jag’s exploration.
“It’s embarrassing,” he muttered and raised Jag’s arm to rub off any dirt and sweat.
“Tell me!” Jag playfully bit the stomach in front of him, and this time Dane let out a chuckle, wrapping his free arm around Jag’s head to keep him in place. As his laughter died, there was a pause lasting so long Jag almost spoke up, but then Dane’s voice slithered into his ear, soft, with a slight tremble.
“I have this thing. A sexual fantasy that most nice people don’t fit into. I like… monsters.”
Jag stalled, trying to make sense of it, but could only come up with, “Huh? Are you saying… I’m a monster?” He wasn’t sure how that sat with him.