Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I watch each minute expression, and I know I’m there before he even says it by the way his eyes widen, then roll back, and his moan turns into a helpless mewl.
So I speed up.
I was brought up to be a killing machine, but I might as well use that muscle control in bed. With him.
“Fuck! This! Here! Fuck me like this!” Eli begs, pulling me close.
His wish is my command and I become fucking relentless in the way I pump my dick into his needy hole. My mind is pulsing with the need to get him off mixed with my own greedy lust. It’s like a beast inside me that has only one primitive purpose—to breed. Instinct drives me to his neck and I close my teeth on it without much force, just to hold him in place.
I need it with my entire being, and when my lover twitches, tightens his legs around me, and shudders, uttering a series of choked grunts, I know he’s ready.
His warm, sweaty body milks my cock, as I let my weight rest on top and plow him mercilessly, just like I imagined.
It’s too fucking good.
How could anyone get into bed with this man and not itch to worship him in every way? I would move mountains for him. Protect him with my own body, and pleasure him as many times as he wants.
He’s mine. And now I’m his too.
I might have blacked out for a bit, because once the waves of pleasure have washed over me, I’m still on top of that prone, fragrant body, and Eli is stroking me.
His fingers slide over my back, and he still has his legs around me, either not wanting to let go, or not wanting to change position so my dick is in him that little longer. I indulge in the soft kisses he’s leaving on the side of my head. I feel so… accepted.
“I’ve never gone bare before,” he whispers after a while, seeming happy to be my mattress, because he’s not pushing me off. “It’s so fucking hot to have your cum inside me.”
“Fuck… yes,” I mumble, cozy as if his arms are my personal heaven. “There’s more for you where that came from.” I’m already dozing off, so fucking comfortable and satisfied I’d rather not move an inch until morning, but some things need to be said. “I’m gay, by the way.”
Eli laughs out loud, and even that feels like a caress. He thinks I’m funny.
“Good to know. I am, in fact, also gay. Which makes this unexpected road trip infinitely better. Stay like this?” he asks, and I’m all too happy to melt into him.
It is only as I’m falling asleep that I realize the storm’s over, and I never even noticed when it passed.
Chapter 8
Eli
If this were a dream, I wouldn’t want it to end.
But it isn’t. I’m awake, and the hottest man I’ve ever met is asleep on top of me. He’s heavy, simultaneously hard and soft to the touch, and the heat between my buttocks is a reminder of what we did last night.
Cesar wanted me.
He wanted me so much he initially wanted to sleep on the floor to avoid scaring me, but then I found out, and the jolts of mutual desire brought us together. It’s been so damn long since I’ve been fucked—over a year, since my breakup with Spencer—but when he climbed on top and helped himself to my body as if it was his God-given right, I didn’t have a single doubt that it was what I wanted too.
He smells like a summer breeze in the woods, all fresh herbs, with a bit of salt and musk from last night’s sweat. And while I am going to need the restroom soon, I don’t have the heart to wake him up after he drove me to safety, and then made sure to pump me full of cum.
I blush just thinking about it. And the way he rimmed me? Like there was nothing he liked better. No one’s ever done that to me before, and now I know I was missing out. Such a skilled tongue. I’d chastise myself for losing my mind and going bare, but what is that in the face of me becoming a murderer and wanted fugitive?
And the things he said to me? I’d be fanning myself if my arm wasn’t trapped under his delicious weight. I can only hope he meant at least half of them. No one’s ever been that intense with me, not even the guy I planned to propose to one day. As if I’m not just someone who ‘will do’, but the only one he wants. I don’t even mind if Sullivan’s death is the main reason motivating his desire.
I’m wondering how much longer my bladder can last before it bursts when Cesar rolls off me and to his back, presenting me with yet another reason to stay in bed. I could admire his body for days. Too bad I’m no artist, because he’d be my new muse. I want to learn his tattoos by heart and find out what every scar is from, including the massive one in the middle of his chest.