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)
I’ve eaten well, I’m drinking good whiskey, and this stunning man is naked next to me.
“Lucky.”
“What about this one?” Clyde asks, turning to his side when his fingers trail from my thigh and all the way up to the big-ass ugly scar on my hip. For a moment, it’s hard to focus on the question, because his dick is in view again, and I can’t fucking believe the man who gave me head also fed me, and is now touching my body. It feels too good to be true, but we are both here, so maybe I shouldn’t overthink it.
I look down and shake my head as I cover his hand with mine, pressing it to the mangled flesh. “My first, actually, and I wish it came with a movie-worthy story. But I got this one as a kid.”
I initially want to leave it at that, but when Clyde keeps watching me, I sigh and let my head drop to the blanket. I could lie, come up with a good story to accompany that old injury, but it feels like we’re beyond posturing now. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
When he nods, I run my fingertip through the golden hair on his forearm. “My friends and me, we wanted to show how tough we were. Got a bit drunk on some booze one of them stole from his parents, and we decided to prove ourselves by cutting ourselves with a razor. I was really determined to be the toughest of them all and made this big cut.” I clear my throat and sigh as Clyde’s fingertips trace the marks on my body. “I thought it would stop bleeding on its own, but that didn’t happen. My parents would be furious if they found out, and since I’ve heard about surgeons stapling cuts, I took my mom’s paper stapler and tried to use that. As you can imagine… it wasn’t pretty.”
Clyde covers his face with one hand. “Oh God… Road. Seriously. Your only saving grace for this is that you were a kid.”
I laugh. “Well, Mom and Dad wouldn’t take me to a doctor anyway. The only thing I had to gain if I told them would be a whupping, so I used paper towels to soak up the blood and hoped for the best. But some dirt must have gotten into the wound, or something, and I got real sick. My best friend told his mom, and she took me to the ER. Probably saved my life. Not a memory I’m proud of,” I say, tapping the scar.
Clyde has some more whiskey and shakes his head. “Your parents. Do they know you’re gay? Are you… gay?” His fingertips tickle the mangled scar before moving up my side.
My mouth dries. Clyde is looking straight at me, his eyes soft, almost hopeful. If this question had come from anyone else, I’d have to act and establish myself as the manliest of men around, lie that I don’t have dick on my mind all the time, but how could Clyde use the truth against me now that we’ve already been so close? Still, the words I want to say feel like glass in my throat.
“Yeah, I’m gay. And… I don’t fucking know or care what my parents know. I left when I was fourteen.”
Sparks of excitement pop in my chest when Clyde shifts closer, eventually putting his leg between mine, his arm over my chest, and his cheek on my shoulder. His breath smells of whiskey, and maybe not today, but I will kiss him.
“And you don’t have… other guys? You did suggest we’re in the same boat when you proposed our thing.”
My arms slide around him, and I smile when his hair tickles my skin. He’s so damn perfect with those clear eyes, full lips, and a sturdy, muscular form. “No. The risk always felt too great. But you… you also have a lot to lose, don’t you?” I ask, and open my eyes so I can see his face, because this feels like a make-it-or-break-it kind of question. “You’re also… gay?”
Clyde hums and nods. “Yeah. Women just don’t work for me. Not that I didn’t try. My dad would have hated this about me. But I never…” He drifts off, closing his eyes for a moment, and I notice that his eyelashes are on the pale side. Kinda cute. “Indulging this part of me was always too risky. So you’re my first.” When he finally meets my gaze again, it feels like he’s staring straight into my soul, and my toes curl in response to the sudden jolt inside me.
I dive my hands into his smooth hair and lean close, until my forehead is against his, and something about this shared moment makes my heart flutter as if it’s about to grow wings and free itself from my ribcage. Cascading through my fingers, his mane looks like bundles of gold thread, decorating the most fucking precious thing I ever held.