Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
We step into the small building and while there’s not much in there, just a brown couch that’s seen better days, several plastic storage boxes, and some tools by the stack of firewood, it’s tidy enough.
Clyde drops his ass to the couch right before I almost decided to give it a playful slap. He pats the seat next to him in silent invitation as he reaches for the closest box.
I obey, as if he’s controlling me with his mind. The couch is old, way too soft, and a spring digs into my thigh, but how could I care when Clyde Turner’s leaning into the arm I draped over his shoulders?
His ear, pale and vulnerable between strands of smooth hair, invites me for that kiss I’m craving, and I roll my tongue over its shell, before dipping it down the snug opening in the middle. A secret little hole for me to explore before I enjoy all the others.
Clyde flinches and pushes my chest back, but he laughs, looking back at me. It’s so cute I want to make him laugh again. “What are you doing?” he asks, pulling three thick magazines out of the box.
They’re as worn as the couch, and it makes me horny that I’m sitting where he’s jerked off countless times.
“Making out,” I tell him, surprised that having his ears played with is new to him.
“With my ear?” Clyde raises his eyebrows, leaning back against my arm, magazines in his lap.
The one on top is titled Inked Studs but I’m too aroused to laugh at it.
“Since you’re protecting the virginity of your mouth, I might as well play with this hole,” I mutter and lap up his entire ear, sliding my nose into his fragrant hair.
Clyde laughs again, shaking his head. “What am I doing? You’re such an ass.” And yet, he slides his hand over my stomach, because he can’t get enough of me even though he’s fighting it.
I love that happy sound. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before, but now I want to be its one and only cause. Humming, I cup his face and rub my lips along his brows, down his nose—only to be pushed away again when I reach his lips. He’s a hard nut to crack.
“So… what are you into?” I ask, pulling him closer, as if he didn’t just reject my kiss again.
I’m starting to see a pattern in the way he moves. He always hesitates for a second or two before settling. Clyde leans half his body against me, getting cozy under my arm. Is he sexually shy? Unused to touch? Or just that much of a control freak? I don’t know yet.
“I like big strong guys,” he says, opening the magazine to show me, and the title wasn’t messing around. I’m treated to several photos of inked studs. One has a mohawk, the other is bald, and they’re banging in some back alley. Full-on anal, the bald guy has a hand over the other’s mouth.
I swear Clyde’s breath hitches, and while the photos are arousing, especially the closeup shot of the bottom’s face, overcome with a mixture of elation and discomfort, the real porn is right here, touching my side, leaning into my touch. Warm and tasty like a pie straight out of the oven.
I rub my nose up and down his neck while I watch him turn the page with shaking fingers. In the central picture, the bottom’s looking straight at the camera as he licks thick fingers dipped into his mouth. Cum’s splattered on the side of his face and dripping onto his chest. I didn’t think there was a point to the existence of porn mags when there’s internet, but suddenly I want to have this exact one under my pillow.
It’s a glimpse into Clyde's horny brain. I bet he's getting hard under the stack of paper.
“That you?” I ask, tapping the bottom with my finger.
By now, I pretty much expect his stalling. While he might be quick to a fight, he seems to be an overthinker when it comes to me and our thing. As if he’s resistant, but knows he can’t be if he wants to get off.
He licks those pretty lips and nods, making my stomach clench with excitement at him admitting such a thing to me. We might be in different clubs, but we’re both well aware that suck my dick is an insult, not something you should want.
“It’s hot,” he whispers, and I nod.
“That’s because you’re hot. You’re making my balls boil,” I tell him, and the glance he sends me is somehow both skittish and full of yearning. For me. For my move. After all, he’s the one who wants to be hunted down and taken.
I bury my face in his hair and nip on the skin none of his brothers will see as I place my hand on his thigh and pull it toward me, making him open his legs wider.