Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“Like this?”
Trig let out the grunt of a sated lion and jabbed into him. Then again. And once more. He panted into El’s lips, and his muscles went stiff under El’s touch right before turning liquid. Trig collapsed on top of El with his cock still throbbing in pleasure.
“Just like this,” Trig panted, rolling off El and gathering him into his arms. Their blood was still flowing fast, but somewhere between them both climbing under the covers and Trig once again raining kisses on El’s neck, both of them dozed off.
El wasn’t even sure when he fell asleep, because Trig was his dream.
Epilogue – Trig
Their apartment was small, with a creaking floor and old windows that offered little in terms of insulation, but it was theirs. For the time being at least. El’s debt put them in a financial hole, and it would have been cheaper to live at the clubhouse, but with him still adjusting to club life, Trig had decided a place of their own would make the transition easier on El. Unexpectedly generous, Priest had offered they could live rent-free for a year in a place he owned as long as they renovated it in the meanwhile. The offer had been a godsend.
Six months in, the apartment felt like their own. They filled it with loud music, the scent of takeout, and had fucked against every single wall. Trig no longer worried whether El was okay somewhere out there, in the little house in the middle of nowhere and always scrambling to make ends meet. Under Trig’s protection, El would never again go hungry or cold. For the first time in five years, he was at peace.
He was strained by the extra work he had to do for the club to pay off the debt, but he’d never regret his choice if it meant waking up every single day with El wrapped around him like a cuddly spider.
Today though, he really was tired, and wished he could just roll into bed instead of going to a potluck at Tooth’s. His prez wouldn’t give him any grief over it if he bailed, but Trig didn’t want to get on Lucky’s bad side, because while the guy liked to play the friendly husband, he influenced many of Tooth’s decisions. So Trig turned the water in the shower to cold and clenched his teeth when the freezing stream hit him.
He paced in place, rubbed his face, and was out, still damp and shivery.
Stepping into the hallway trembling with fat guitar riffs was more invigorating than the rinse had been. He ought to run into the bedroom and get dressed, but a muffled curse word coming from the other end of the corridor led him to the kitchen. Stepping over a pile of planks that needed a layer of paint, he crossed the threshold, to see El standing by the counter, his blue Mohawk flopping to the side.
El glanced back at him with the scowl of a man who’d gotten stabbed with a dull knife.
“I don’t know what I did wrong…”
Trig’s stomach sank, and he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his man’s slender body. There was a large salad bowl on the counter, and while the chopped veg didn’t look like anything special, Trig couldn’t see what the big deal was.
“Looks fine to me.”
El leaned into him with a deep sigh. “I followed the recipe, but I’m no cook. Lucky made a point of saying several times that he wants the food for the potluck to not be store-bought. I can’t bring this. Try it.”
Trig snorted and reached for a spoon before scooping up some of the food and putting it into his mouth. He’d been prepared to dismiss El’s worries, but the white dressing fizzed against his tongue, as if it were fermented. He backed away and spat everything out into the trash can before gurgling some water to get rid of the weird aftertaste in his mouth.
Only then did he look at the crestfallen expression on El’s face.
El’s Mohawk bobbed to the sides when he shook his head. “I spent so much on fancy ingredients. I wanted to show him I can do more than bartending, and here we are. I should have known peaches won’t go with capers, but the Instagram woman looked so trustworthy.”
“Capers?” Trig frowned. “You mean those tiny olives? Why would you get those?”
El threw his arms in the air. “Because she told me to!”
Trig chuckled and grabbed the hair gel resting on a bookshelf at the side wall. He squeezed a bit onto his hand, rubbed them together, and then clasped his palms on the spiky hair to give it more definition. El was always less insecure when his hair looked flawless.
“You learned your lesson. Never trust strange women who claim they can improve your life.”