Love and History (The Script Club #6) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Script Club Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
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I kicked my duvet to the end of my bed, shed my boxer briefs, and spread my legs wide as my fantasy revved into serious porn action with a medieval twist—Holden dressed in a royal robe and nothing else.

Don’t judge. He’d fuckin’ love it. I’d get on my knees for him, push his velvet cloak aside, and service his royal cock. I sucked my middle finger and massaged it over my entrance while I jacked myself. The sexy musings heated up quickly. Suddenly Holden’s hands were all over me…pinching my nipples, kneading my ass, stroking my dick. I pushed a digit inside and conjured a wicked vision of him slowly burying his thick penis inside me.

My hand moved double time as the X-rated image tripped every pleasure receptor in my body. This was where he’d untie his robe, climb behind me, and fuck me senseless. This was where he’d lose control and fall apart, shooting cum deep inside me. It was my fantasy, so…no condoms…just me and a sexy scientist with fogged-up glasses, demanding my surrender.

As fantasies went, it was a good one. Cum shot across my stomach in an impressive arc. I dragged my forearm across my mouth, trembling through an impressive round of aftershocks.

Holy fuck.

I sat up slowly and sucked in a cleansing breath.

Life had been much simpler when I could pretend Holden annoyed me. That wasn’t possible anymore. He didn’t annoy me…he never had. He inspired me, challenged me, made me think about what I wanted and why. I wanted him, but I was beginning to realize this was far more complicated than sex.

I didn’t have words for this achy, yearning sensation deep inside me. I only knew that Holden was the key.

The kitchen was quiet when I headed downstairs to make coffee. Glancing out the window over the sink, I noticed Noah’s SUV in the driveway and Beth’s car parked on the street. Full house. Huh. I wondered if we’d had a mass sleepover last night. My room was on the opposite end of the hall from everyone else’s, which meant I didn’t hear my roommates coming or going…or having sexy time. And they didn’t hear anything from me.

But they might have heard Holden sneaking back to his room. Shit.

I mulled over possible awkward conversations involving squeaking bedsprings and creaky floorboards while I sipped coffee. Talk about wasting brain cells. My dad always said that the best way to keep worry at bay was to cook. And who didn’t love pancakes and bacon on a Saturday morning?

Half an hour later, the kitchen was a bustling chatty hub of congenial hospitality. Cole and Beth sat at the table with Tommy and Noah, eating pancakes while I stirred the batter for round number two and clandestinely watched for Holden.

Not gonna lie, I almost dropped the bowl when he materialized in the doorway on cue, looking hotter than anyone who’d clearly just jumped out of the shower had a right to. Damp finger-combed hair, glasses, striped PJ bottoms, and a plain white tee weren’t sexy, were they? And no one on the planet seriously got the vapors for a guy who topped off that combo with a cable-knit cardigan with patches on the sleeves. Did they?

My instinct to tease him for wearing a sweater on an eighty-degree day in July gave way to a much stronger desire to bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe in the smell of his soap, shampoo, and general yumminess.

I wisely kept my hands to myself and grunted what I hoped passed for a casual greeting. “Want some pancakes?”

Holden smiled. “You made breakfast?”

I nodded, heat rushing to my cheeks. Damn. If anyone noticed, I hoped they thought it was the stove. “Grab some coffee. I’ll have a fresh batch ready in a few.”

“These are awesome. Ez made enough bacon to feed an army too,” Cole reported, passing the syrup to Beth, a petite blond with long wavy hair and a sunny disposition.

Holden made a beeline for the coffeemaker and lowered his voice as he glanced over at our roommates and their significant others on the opposite end of the sunlight-dappled space.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, lifting his mug to his lips.

“Great, but I was lonely when I woke up.”

“I heard someone come in and I couldn’t remember if I’d left my door open last night,” Holden whispered.

“Did you?”

“No. Trust me, I would have preferred staying put.”

I flipped a pancake. “Me too. I was so lonely I had to jerk off.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, the second I thought about my mouth on your dick—”

He sputtered and choked. “Shoot!”

“Yep, that’s exactly what happened,” I singsonged.

Holden smacked my arm and dabbed his chin with a paper towel. “That was hot.”

I snorted. “C’mon, genius. It’s coffee. It’s supposed to be hot.”

He set the mug on the counter and glared at me. “I know it’s supposed to be hot, you…”


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