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)
* * * * *
Sean stared at the ceiling, flat on his back, helplessly bound to Max’s bed.
He couldn’t believe this shit.
Please. Yes, he could.
No. He fucking couldn’t.
… He totally could.
Sean sighed and closed his eyes. Max’s ways were his own. Outlandish and unpredictable. With a streak of sadism that apparently Sean couldn’t get enough of. Why else would he be eagerly awaiting the guy’s return? Struggling to stay angry. Or mad at all to begin with. Yup, all evidence said he liked Max’s methods. Liked how Max ran him through the wringer. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. Like living in a thriller. In a state of constant anticipation when Max was near. Sometimes Sean swore the very beat of his heart was charged by pure, Max-fueled adrenaline.
His lids slid back open and, for the umpteenth time, he perused Max’s meticulous bedroom. So perfectly tidy, and lightly embellished with the unique personality of Sean’s Dom. Décor Sean had long-since memorized after the first half hour of staring at it. Like the huge, black four-poster he was laying on, impeccably made, with matching black bedding. Bedding that included the coolest thick cover, its texture like silky-rough suede. Which was a total contradiction, but he didn’t know how else to describe it. All he knew was that his skin fucking loved it. Every inch of it on his five-foot-ten frame.
The rest of Max’s furnishings—a four-drawer dresser, large mirror, and side tables—were clearly of the same set as his bed. Imposingly large, with a high-sheen black finish and modernistic clean, straight edges. Reminded Sean of Max decked out in leather. Hard and smooth. Not a soft spot in sight. Flawlessly polished. Gorgeous.
Sean perused the few items sitting on Max’s dresser; a small stone box he assumed held jewelry, a sweet cuff watch, and a cool little plant—Max liked plants. It was obvious. Had them all around his house. But just like earlier, Sean’s gaze drifted to the mirror, lingering on a hanging pair of dogs tags. Family in the military? Parent or sibling?
He glanced once more to Max’s black, floor-length curtains, and the dark hardwood floors that they pooled atop. Then he eyed the two huge paintings to his right, hung in abstract glory by the windows. Not surprising, there were other abstract pieces, too, in the form of sculpted art placed here and there. Some works were recognizable as Max’s own, so of course Sean loved those the most.
But he also loved Max’s walls. Not just because they actually held color, but because the color they held was picked by Max. A trivial detail, but to Sean it was more. Added insight, another clue, to help unveil the mystery of his Dom. Sean gazed at the rich plum so similar to Max’s studio’s, yet distinguishably different by its artistically textured finish. Gave it a kind of stone-wall appearance that, while reflecting Max’s obvious hard-shelled vibe, also mirrored his fundamental beauty.
And unabashed boldness. Because, seriously, how many guys’ rooms were purple? Not that any would contest that to Max’s face. Although, if they did, Max would unquestionably welcome it. Grin, even, as he responded with a beat down. After all, one of the man’s most discernable traits was that he always was ready to rumble. Sean had picked up that vibe within the first couple minutes of meeting him. Behind his cool demeanor, kindling quietly in his eyes.
Sean’s blood pumped hotter. Max was dominance incarnate. A disposition that really rubbed Sean right. Why, though, he wasn’t sure, because Sean wasn’t a scrapper. He’d always been “a lover not a fighter.” But fuck, the way Max exuded that air? That I-dare-you-to-fuck-with-me authority? Sean always loved confidence, always found it sexy, but the level Max took it to was mesmerizing. Especially when he directed it at Sean. Because whenever Max’s green eyes locked on him? All that raw power made Sean feel protected, not endangered. Coveted and shit. By a king.
Sean snagged his bottom lip between his teeth and eyed the bathroom door. Where behind it, Max was taking a shower. He’d returned about ten minutes ago with one hell of a look in his eyes. All blazing with that midnight green fire. His expression had instantly shot Sean back to rigid, not that he’d ever gone soft. Because he hadn’t. That pumped-up plug in his ass made sure of that. Not only did it keep him relentlessly stuffed, and his backdoor perpetually parted, but it also kept pressing against his fucking prostate whenever he moved the slightest inch. Which wasn’t saying it didn’t feel good, because in a kinky, raunchy way it definitely did. He just wasn’t used to staying more than semi-hard for such an extended period of time. In other words, being incessantly horny as fuck for longer than it took to jerk off.