Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I let my cock slap hard against my stomach, and I hope he can hear it. How fucked up is that? Felix could walk in on me at any second, and I think about what would happen if he did.
We shouldn’t but we would. Right now, I’d do it. I wouldn’t even hesitate.
I’d fuck him bare if he’d let me.
I want it so bad. Too bad to do the right thing.
Please walk in. Please walk in. Please walk in.
I rub my thumb over a pulsating vein. I squeeze, gasping in relief. I jack myself harder and punch my hips into the air when I imagine what it would feel like to blow my load inside a guy for the first time, and then, inside my mind, Felix tells me it’s his turn to fuck me, and my ass clenches with want. My stomach quivers. I can’t catch my breath.
Fuck, I’m close. I’m so close.
My balls tingle, and I barely yank my boxers down in time. There’s cum shooting onto my chest and abs and I’m moaning his name, and the only thing I regret is this not playing out how I secretly want.
And isn’t that fucking hysterical.
I’m still quietly laughing about how fucked up I am after I’ve cleaned up and gotten dressed.
I know Felix is awake. His bedroom door is open, and I can smell bacon as I step out into the hallway. I wonder what time he got up.
I stop in the bathroom and toss the tissues I used, and then I head downstairs.
Bella is curled up on the last step, and I bend down to pet her. She purrs and licks my palm.
“Good morning,” I say to her. “Still like me today?”
She leans into my hand.
“Jake?” Felix calls out.
“Yeah. I’m up.”
I leave Bella and round the corner, freezing when I enter the kitchen, and I think holy shit for two completely different reasons.
First, the table is covered with food.
Pancakes stacked high and mounds of scrambled eggs, enough bacon for ten people, sausages, waffles, and cinnamon rolls. Felix cooked enough for a small army.
And then there’s Felix.
Jesus. Felix.
He’s standing at the sink, rinsing something.
His back is to me, and he’s only wearing gray sweatpants. Nothing else.
And God, I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly before.
He’s pale skin decorated with the blackest tattoos and lean limbs and back dimples that sink in so deep. And I move closer because I fucking have to, stopping when he’s just within reach, and I reach for him, fingertip tracing the large butterfly wing that hugs his protruding hip bone.
Felix gasps and goes rigid at my touch, and I say, “I’m sorry” and “God, Felix” and “Didn’t this hurt?”
And he audibly swallows and says “yes” and “you can touch them all if you want” and he’s so fucking brave to say that to me, knowing I shouldn’t.
I stare at his ink as my hand falls away. “I’ll just look,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
His skin is marked in random places.
A heart with a dagger going through it on the back of his neck. The words Handle With Care going down his spine. A skull on one shoulder blade and a blooming rose on the other. There’s a tic-tac-toe game and the words See You Soon and a band-aid with Love, Mom inked on it. On his other hip, a matching butterfly.
I gently tug on his elbow, easing Felix around to face me.
So, so quietly, he says “Hello” when our eyes meet, and his cheeks are burning bright red.
I say, “Hi” back.
His hair is sleep-messy, curling in his eyes, and fucking adorable.
And he’s so shy letting me do this, he’ll probably blush later just thinking about it, but Felix is still able to lean back against the sink and grip the edge of the counter and fucking pose like he knows just how hot he is.
I look at his chest and stomach and the cut of his biceps, and I can’t even pay attention to the ink covering him. Not yet. I stare at the body underneath.
He’s definitely skinnier than me, but Felix has muscle. Tight and sinewy, like he’s flexing without even trying. And fuck yeah, I like that so much. His abs are carved and his pecs tighten when he crosses one ankle over the other, and the ink on his arms stretches over veins that pop out and bulge.
I move on to his ink.
He has a tree with rotted roots on his pec. The scales of justice are on one side of his navel and a cupid shooting an arrow at himself is on the other. There’s random animals—a wolf head, a fox with a fluffy tail, and a cartoonish looking panda. Six more flowers decorate his torso. Different types. Dean’s name is inked above his hip.
“I made him give me that,” Felix says proudly. “He acted like I was dumb for wanting it, but I caught him smiling at himself when he was cleaning up.”