Turn Me On (The Boyfriend Zone #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Forbidden, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boyfriend Zone Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
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Because I’m in him.

What the fuck has he done to me over the last few weeks?

I’m not sure I can hold back this storm of emotions. Letting go of his thighs, I stretch over him, gripping his arms. I swivel my hips. Then I lean down, my chest inches from his.

“Tonight,” I begin, meeting his eyes, ready, so ready to say tonight has to be the first of so many times together. But I swallow the rest of my words.

Now is not the time to confess these crazy feelings taking hold of me. Now is the time for fucking.

“Wanted you so much tonight,” I improvise. There. I covered up my spiraling emotions.

He huffs out a staggered breath. “Same here.”

I ease out and thrust back in.

He groans so long, so greedily.

Then, I shut my goddamn mouth. I kiss him as I fuck him. He tastes like sex and need and the man for me.

I kiss him harder, so I don’t blurt that out.

Then a little deeper as I try to let the intensity of my feelings pass.

I wrench away from his lips, lasering in on my only mission—to make him feel out of this world.

I rise to my knees, grab the back of his legs again, and I fuck him hard. Deep. Ruthlessly. His cock jumps against his stomach, leaking again.

“Bet you could come without me touching you,” I growl.

“Bet I could,” he rasps out.

“Want to see you covered in my come too,” I say on a deep, long thrust.

“My face, my ass, my stomach,” he says.

As I rock deep, I grab his cock, curl a fist around his shaft.

And I jack and I fuck Maddox till he’s arching against the restraints. His dick throbs in my fist. His face twists in pleasure.

When Maddox shoots all over his abs and his pecs, I am done. I drill him as heat consumes me, and my orgasm overwhelms me with one final, soul-searing pump.

Then I collapse onto his chest, our hearts racing, our skin slick, our intimacy unbeatable. Soon, I ease out. “Maddox,” I say softly.

He looks up at me slowly, his face still all blissed out. “Yeah?”

“I think you had your way with me.”

That both feels like a true confession and hides my heart at the same damn time.

21

PLAYING HOOKY

Maddox

My least favorite parts of sex are the awkward moments after. Starting with a guy untying me. Next, the clean-up. Then, the worst part of all—thanks for the sex, see you later.

When I was in my twenties and tried the hookup scene, that turned me off the most. The over-and-out of it all. That’s why I curbed hookups years ago.

But tonight is awkward for other reasons.

Namely, my galloping heart, with its echoing drumbeat asking what’s next. When Zane collapses onto me, his big, broad chest covering mine, I want to stroke his hair and ask that damn revealing question.

I press my lips together so I don’t speak a word.

When I close my eyes, a pair of lips sweep my collarbone. Strong fingers graze down my arm. “You were fucking incredible,” he murmurs.

My heart pounds and words escape me anyway: “You were.”

I open my eyes as he shakes his head against my chest. “We were,” he says.

I look away, so he can’t see what he’s doing to me. I try to chase off the wild horses in my heart.

Focus on reality. Ask him to untie you now.

But Zane’s faster than my mind. He moves in a flash. He’s up, taking off the condom, then pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “Let me ditch this and I’ll be right back to untie you, Mad.”

While he’s in the bathroom, I try not to dwell on the uncomfortableness of post sex. That’s easy enough when he returns with a generous grin that eases my nerves and a wet washcloth that’ll remove the evidence. He swipes it down my stomach, then unties me. Once I’m free, he massages my wrists tenderly. When he takes the towel to the bathroom, I sit up. I should get dressed. I need to do something. To get busy. Look at my phone. Or suggest some food. Or just lay down the expectations. I should—

—I’m tackled.

The fucking athlete has tackled me, pulling me back onto the bed.

My stupid heart thunders as he tugs me toward him.

“Kiss me,” Zane says softly, then he pulls me on top of him, lifting his hands above his head.

That’s surprising, and it’s a suggestion as clear as the ones I’ve given him.

Zane doesn’t want to be topped. I know that. But I know, too, that sometimes he wants reassurance from me, whether we’re in bed or negotiations. And sometimes he wants me to lead.

Good thing I want the same right now.

I grip his wrists, then indulge in a deep, intimate after-sex kiss. Enjoying, too, this moment to take back control. To lead the kiss. Mostly, enjoying that he knew I’d want this kind of a kiss.


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