Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
To Sean’s dismay, not a second later, Max did exactly that. First with the frown, then the demeanor. Then removing all contact from Sean’s body.
Sean sighed. Just like clockwork.
Max nudged him. “Get up. Hour’s over. Time to make yourself scarce.”
TWENTY-ONE
“There you go, caitín. All done for tonight.”
Max set down his soldering iron and eyed Sean’s wax replica. It was Thursday night, and he’d managed to squeeze in an hour to toil with it some more, but he still had a long way to go. Normally, he’d work on it in class with his students, furthering its progression alongside theirs. But this particular class project involved lots of daunting steps, some bordering hazardous if unsupervised. Which meant Max’s students needed continual assistance, leaving little time for him to do anything else. Not that it really mattered. Max wanted his piece to be a surprise. So it wasn’t like he could work on it in class anyway.
He picked up the stage-two sculpture and scrutinized his work. Tonight he’d attached a sprue to its bottom, a wax channel that would funnel liquid bronze into the mold. He studied the seals. They all looked tight. Next step would be dipping it in ceramic. After that it’d go to the college’s vocational department where it’d hang out for a while in an autoclave. After a shit ton of high-steam pressure, all the wax would melt away, leaving a brand new mold of ceramic to work with. Aka a material that could withstand molten bronze. But all that shit was way down the road.
Max turned the replica over and gazed at its face. The face of his newest, brightest sub. For the umpteenth time, Max thought back to Tuesday. To the hour spent working Sean over. Not in a scene, though. In diligent training. Where, as always, Sean surprised the hell out of him. Every step of the way. Especially when Sean agreed to anal training. Not that Max had thought the blowjob and clothespins would be easy, but he did suspect Sean would power through them regardless. He was a determined little fucker like that.
Penetration, though, Max hadn’t been so sure of. To say Sean had been reluctant would be an understatement. But shit, after hearing the whys of it all, Max wouldn’t have blamed him for declining. But then that fire lit in Sean’s eyes, and Max knew without a doubt Sean was going to brave it. Which had impressed the hell out of Max, to be honest. And made him so fucking proud. That right there was the most golden of sub traits. The willingness, the desire, the courage to conquer one’s fears. And not just the small ones. The big ones.
Max set down the wax mold and rubbed his face. In a way, everything that happened after Sean gave the green light was kind of a blur to Max. Because even though on the outside he’d maintained his professional front, on the inside Max was losing his mind. Never had he wanted a sub so badly. The way Sean was spread out before him like an offering, every inch of his being beckoning Max to take him. Max had no doubt that Sean would’ve welcomed Max’s advances. Which, fuck, only made resisting that much harder. But that would’ve been inappropriate on every level. He’d been training him for fuck’s sake. They weren’t even doing a scene. But God, Sean’s eyes. They’d nearly done Max in. So much trust and vulnerability, yet such blazing, brazen need. Made Max want to growl and yank him close. Encage him protectively inside his arms, then possessively thrust home nice and deep.
He’d wanted Sean to be his with an intensity that bordered on dangerous.
Jesus. What the fuck was going on with him? Why was this kid tripping him up?
Max shook his head and chuckled darkly. “I really fucking need to get laid.”
In truth, it had been quite some time since the last time he’d dipped his stick. Jacking off didn’t count. Not that he did that super often. He did, however, do it Tuesday after Sean left. Twice. Because the first one was over before it’d started. He’d detonated in less than a minute. He’d been that worked up from his hour with Sean. That fucking horny to get off. And Sean had known. That’d been evident when he’d made the request that Max come in future scenes, too. Something that on one hand was absolutely awesome—it’d quite literally be Max’s upmost pleasure—but on the other could be playing with fire. Climaxing in heated passion with another always was, but with Sean it’d be on a whole new level. Because until he came along, Max had mastered his sexual apathy. With Sean, though, that just wasn’t the case.
Max scowled and got busy cleaning up shop. He needed to stop thinking. About everything. Period. He’d figure out a game plan later.