Wild at Heart Read Online Christina Lee, Riley Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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It’s easier to forget everything else when I’m inside him.

I grab his face, pulling his mouth to mine, trying to kiss him so hard, it’ll silence the voices in my head.

My tongue pushes into his mouth, leading the kiss, amping up the urgency. We rip at each other’s clothes faster now, until we’re both naked, Sully’s hard, thick cock pointing at me.

My mouth waters for him. It doesn’t matter that he’s sweaty from the sun. I drop to my knees and lick a strip from his balls to the tip, sucking the precum there.

“Fuck…Porter. So good.” He tangles his hand in my hair. “I love when you give me your mouth.”

“Well, I hate it, hate you,” I tell him, but he knows I don’t. I think he knows, at least. He’s not any more foolish than me. He sees there’s no future between us. I’m not sure he would want one, and I don’t either. Can’t let myself. If his family has anything to say about it, Sully will end up with Aimee Daniels. Their families are close. When a Sullivan or a Daniels speaks, people listen—unlike my family. It would be a perfect match, one I’m sure will happen one day. I think Sully knows it too.

“Do you?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s being serious. Instead of replying, I suck him to the back of my throat.

I blow him, listening to Sully whisper my name, to the breathy sounds he makes, loving the feel of his hand in my hair. When his thighs begin to tremble, I know he’s close, know he’ll blow at any second, so I pull off.

“Asshole,” Sully chuckles, a small smile tilting up the right corner of his mouth.

“You say that like we both don’t know I’m an asshole.”

“Race you to the stream.”

“I’m not playin’ those silly games with you.”

He rolls his eyes and takes off running. I can’t keep my gaze off his tight ass when he goes, and damned if I don’t end up chasing after him. We’re careful of the rocks beneath our feet, or the jagged ones will easily slice you or turn your ankle.

Fucking Bishop Sullivan Jr.

We rinse off, which Sully uses as an excuse to play around with me, trying to dunk me and splash me, while I grumble and tell him to stop messin’ around and get his ass out of the water so I can fuck him and get back to work.

Eventually, he listens, and it’s me chasing him out of the water again, before I take the packet of lube out of my jeans pocket and take him hard and fast by a tree.

The second we’re done, he gives me a dopey smile, looking orgasm-drunk, and I turn away. This is always where I hate myself the most for wanting him. I don’t give a shit that I’m gay. Screw anyone who has a problem with it. But of all people, I’m fucking Bishop Sullivan?

My family doesn’t have shit, has never had shit because of his. Because his great-grandfather cheated my great-grandfather out of the land for this ranch.

Because of that, Bishop is set for life, and my dad drank and worked himself into an early grave with nothing to his name, and now my mom is employed by the Sullivans, and I’m…

I shove to my feet.

“Porter,” he says, but when I whip my head in his direction, he sighs and doesn’t say anything else. I tug my clothes on, frustrated with myself, with him, with the whole fucking world because I’m always angry at the world and nothing ever gets better.

“It’s different with us,” he says. “Different now. My great-grandpa didn’t⁠—”

“I’m out of here,” I cut him off. I already know what he’s gonna say: that it’s not what I think, that my great-grandpa was a hothead who bet his half of the money for the ranch, lost it, and got arrested, so his family had no choice but to move on without him. That’s not true, though—not according to my dad. They took his money and his ranch and left us with nothing.

Without another word, I climb on Ranger’s back and ride off.

Sully shows up back at the ranch about twenty minutes after I do. I finish my workday, get into my old truck, and drive away.

That same night, my mom has a heart attack, dies just like my dad did, older than her age, and with hardly anything to her name.

It’s the first time I’ve cried since my dad passed, the stupid fucking tears that don’t help a damn thing and only make me feel weak.

I spent the night at the hospital, unable to leave her. When I get back home the next morning, our house is too small, too empty, but I have nowhere else to be. No one else who gives a fuck about me. I sit there all day, knowing I should do something, but I don’t know what to do. I’m alone now, and while I’ve always felt alone and liked it that way, the weight of it presses too heavily on me today.



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