Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“It was the only opening you had.”
A smile so small it’s barely noticeable teases his lips. “Guess I should’ve known that.”
“What about you? What do you like to do?”
I don’t expect him to answer. Not honestly, at least. He’s always so careful not to reveal too much about himself. Sometimes I get the feeling nobody really knows who James Holden is.
“I read, too. I work. I run. I surround myself with music as often as possible.”
They’re not life altering revelations but they’re genuine, intriguing. Bizarrely, I almost feel a little closer to him. For the first time I admit to myself that I don’t actually hate him. I never have. If anything, I hated myself for giving into him so easily the first time we met. Rightly or wrongly, I’m ashamed of the way I behaved that night, but I can’t blame James, no matter how much I want to. He didn’t force me into anything. He didn’t even encourage me. He didn’t need to. I wanted it. Wanted him. And as I sit here inhaling shallow breaths, goosebumps mottling my skin every time I look at him, I think I still do.
“Going off the playlist in your car, you have very eclectic taste.”
His smile grows a little wider. It’s mesmerising. He should do it more often. “I like different songs for different reasons, play certain songs for certain moods.”
I want to ask for more details but I’m not confident enough. I don’t know him, not the real him, but I possess a tiny flicker of hope that maybe I’m starting to. I don’t know why I make my next move. That’s a feeling I’m beginning to get used to. Maybe it’s because he looks so lost, so alone, so in need of someone to touch him, connect with him. Maybe it’s because he’s so close but not close enough. Perhaps it’s because I can barely breathe through the urge to feel his skin against mine, to absorb some of the hidden pain that haunts his beautiful face.
Or maybe, it’s simply because I want to.
I start by placing a tentative palm on his thigh, slowly, carefully, smoothing it up and down. He stares down at my touch, his body frozen and expression beguiled. Warily, I move my hand upwards, gliding the pads of my fingers just barely under the hem of his vest, grazing his taut stomach.
Unexpectedly, he grabs my wrist, paralysing me. I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but he guides my hand lower and presses it over his hard cock through his pants. I grip it through the material and he arches his back against the sofa, groaning into the air. Feeling bold, I scoot closer and lean over him, hovering my lips just inches from his.
I look straight into his eyes, searching them, trying to discover who he is. I see confusion, lust, maybe even fear, then he closes them and fixes his mouth to mine. He drives his tongue between my lips, his designer beard scratching my face, and in an instant all traces of delicacy have gone. I’m back with the guy I met in the bathroom that night, now, as he grabs my shoulders and shoves me lower, breaking our kiss.
My mouth waters as he tugs on his pants, his prominent cock springing free, begging for attention, as he pushes them down his legs.
“Wow,” the word falls out of my mouth when I see his strong, athletic legs, the flesh embracing his muscles adorned with more, exquisite artwork. I can’t see an inch of bare skin as I scan them up and down. His tattoos are vibrant, captivating. They contain every shade and depth of colour. “They’re…” Stunning, beautiful, mesmerising… “Magnificent.”
I look up at him and he’s watching me, his expression curious as he studies my face. I keep my gaze on him as I slip off the sofa and kneel on the floor. Idly, I wonder how many other men there have been, right here in this position, but I force the thought away. The only thing I care about is that I’m here, right now, my mouth so close to his twitching cock I can already taste it.
Curling my fingers around his thick base, I tug gently, retracting his foreskin before licking my way around the deep ridge. He has a cute little freckle on the end of his tip. I kiss it, then drag his whole length into my mouth.
“Fuck that feels good,” he moans, and satisfaction balloons in my chest.
I kiss and lick up and down his shaft, finishing each teasing stroke by circling his moist tip with my tongue. Every gasp, every groan that drips from his mouth makes me feel like a god. Growing impatient, he grabs a fistful of my hair and pushes my head until I have no choice but to swallow him all the way to the back of my throat.
He’s in control now. He directs the speed at which I take him in and out of my mouth over, and over again. He’s too thick, too much, and it makes me gag and splutter but I don’t stop. My mouth slams down on him repeatedly, so forceful I need to support myself by placing my hands on his open thighs.
“That’s it,” he practically growls. “Suck it, Theodore. Suck it hard.”
After what feels like hours, James lifts my head, staring straight into my eyes. My jaw aches. I’m breathless. I miss the taste of his salty pre-cum on my tongue. He crooks his finger and I rise to him immediately, desperate to taste his mouth again. His pants are still hooked around his ankles and as I crawl up onto the sofa, he kicks them off.
“You’re good at that,” he whispers against my jaw, before kissing his way down my neck while he un-pops the buttons on my shirt.
My head tips back and I close my eyes, focusing on every touch, every lick of his warm tongue. My heart hammers fiercely in my chest and my breath comes in short, fast pants when his hand sneaks into my waistband and brushes against my dick. “Oh, God…”