Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
The shower curtain slid back, and then Tango stepped into the shower, his heavily muscled body on full display. All his tattoos stood out in stark contrast to his skin, the light dusting of hair on his chest making my fingers twitch with the urge to touch it. Run my fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Come here,” Tango growled.
I stepped forward immediately—without a beat of hesitation. Whatever he commanded, I followed. It was instinct. I thrived when I was obeying him. When I didn’t have to think. Only do. Only feel.
Tango gripped the back of my neck and lowered his head until his face was hovering right over mine, our lips a mere hairsbreadth away from touching. My heart was going crazy in my chest.
“Think you can be quiet for me?” he asked softly.
I already knew that would be a big no. Tango made me go fucking crazy. He had a way of making me lose my mind, make my mind completely blank until complete nonsense slipped past my lips.
“No,” I told him honestly.
He hummed, his brow arching the tiniest bit. “You got a thing against me gagging you?”
My breathing quickened. “With what?” I rasped, my cock leaking. I was so fucking needy.
I jerked when the tip of my cock touched his, and a shiver raced down my spine, a moan crawling up my throat before I could even attempt to swallow it down.
Tango held up his other hand. “My fingers.”
I nodded. “That’s fine.”
He kissed me then, his tongue immediately probing between my lips. I groaned low in my throat as he backed me up against the wall. We didn’t have time for foreplay; I knew that. And I didn’t care. I was desperate to have him inside of me again after the shitty past couple of days we’d had. I needed the reassurance of his cock filling me, his cum stuffing me full.
He spun me around to face the wall, and when my lips parted on a gasp, he shoved two thick fingers between my lips. I closed my lips around them, sucking on them as if they were his cock. He growled, and a moment later, I felt his slick finger probing at my hole. I whined, the sound muffled by his fingers as he worked me open. I pushed back, bending slightly, my legs sliding apart to give him more access.
“Such a good boy for me,” Tango rumbled, scissoring me open even more. I moaned, saliva dripping from the corners of my mouth and dripping down my chin. My eyes rolled back in my head when his fingers brushed over my prostate, and I whined, my hole clenching around him.
He slid his fingers out of me, making me feel empty and lost, but then his cock was pressing against my hole, pushing in. I groaned, my head falling forward, gagging myself on his fingers, but on instinct, my throat relaxed. He moaned behind me as he pushed further inside.
“So perfect, baby boy.” A shiver raced down my spine. “Just fucking right for me.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, his arm banding around my waist. I moaned when his fingers wrapped around my cock, and he began to pump my prick in time with his thrusts. My mind blanked. Muffled noises spilled from my lips. Tingles rushed through my body, heading straight for my balls until they drew up tight, and I spilled into Tango’s fists with a muffled cry, my eyes rolling back in my head.
Tango snarled and fucked into me harder—faster—until he was spilling inside of me. I slumped into his arms, and he caught me, holding me tight against him. Gently turning me around, he pressed my back to the wall and molded our bodies together, kissing me soft and slow.
“I love you,” I slurred, still cum drunk.
He brushed his lips to my cheek before kissing me again. “I love you, too, baby boy. You’re my entire fucking world.” He cupped my chin, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “And no one will fucking touch you.”
I smiled.
20
Tango
Almost three weeks passed in a routine of helping Ricardo tend to his animals and plants, lounging around, and just enjoying life for the first time since I’d taken Gabriel in and silently claimed him as mine. Gabriel was truly thriving, his shoulders and body language more relaxed than I’d seen in him ever. It gave me ideas of what I could give him when his father was taken care of. What I could turn our home into.
More land. Animals. Dogs. He definitely needed some dogs to follow him around and guard him when I couldn’t be there. He also needed a service dog for his severe anxiety—one trained to bring him out of his head and coax him to regulate his breathing again. Maybe I could even get him a couple of cats to cuddle with. And maybe when spring rolled around, he and I could plant some vegetables and some fruit trees, which would give him some responsibilities. Some structure. Gabriel thrived when he had certain things expected of him.