Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 64929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I just have to take it one step at a time.” Taking the soft leather in my hands, I brought it up to my neck. The pup in the videos always had his collar on. His was monogrammed and clearly expensive, but mine was basic. With my budget, anything else would’ve been ridiculous. People counting every penny and living off student loans and part-time jobs did not get to buy personalized sex toys.
Buckling the ends around my neck, I make sure the little D-ring was hanging down at my throat. The pup had a little tag that attached to his collar, but I’d never been able to make out what it said. It was also where a leash would go. That seemed too excessive to buy just for research, so I hadn’t ordered one. Besides, without someone to hold the leash, that item had just… seemed sad.
Giving the collar one last pat, just to make sure it was fitting right, I double checked that I had everything near me on the floor. Tissues, check. Lube, check. Plug, check. “You can do this. Millions of people do this every day.”
And wasn’t that a weird thought. Picking up the plug, I felt the weight of it in my hand. The site had promised that it was comfortable and had said it was a beginner size. It was going to be fine. Taking a deep breath, I reached out to turn on the video again.
The door slammed open, sending my heart into my throat.
“Hey, asshole. Your clothes—” Owen just stood there, staring.
I felt a little like a bug under a magnifying glass — right before it was set on fire. I was frozen. The only thing flashing through my mind was that he shouldn’t have been home for hours.
And why the hell hadn’t I put a towel on the list?
Chapter 2 Owen
A responsible, well-functioning adult would’ve gone straight home after work. They’d have dutifully gathered up their belongings, maybe stopping by the library — do people even go to libraries anymore? — or grabbing coffee on their way.
It was a damn good thing I wasn’t either of those things. Then again, I didn’t exactly have a home to go to, either. I had a place to live, with a brother who might as well have been a stranger and a growing pile of bills I was happy to ignore.
See, the thing is, people get all poetic and say there’s a difference between a house and a home. They talk about how homes are these mythical places where everyone loves one another and it’s all rainbows and unicorn farts. And hell, it was a great place to grow up. Right in the middle of suburbia, where everyone drove mom cars and acted like we were starring in Leave it to Beaver in public.
It was more like Pleasantville, at least once we hit puberty. Adrian had always gotten hit with the “no girls in your bedroom with the door closed” clause — which he had obeyed, just like he’d obeyed every other goddamn thing in his life like he was an automaton. Me? I’d just played it cool and roughhoused with the boy next door.
Yeah. I did a lot of “wrestling” the summer I discovered just how much I liked cock. It was a given with me; of course I liked mine. But others… Maybe that was why I wasn’t being a good ol’ adult and heading straight home. I could only imagine the look of disappointment and disapproval on Adrian’s face if I waltzed into the house with the hot guy who’d given me his number that morning.
I called him anyway. He invited me over, and presto. Multiple problems solved all at once: I didn’t have to go to the place that had once been home, I didn’t have to pretend to do adulting things, and I didn’t have to see my brother’s haggard face that went from pity to annoyance in the blink of an eye.
Seriously, how fast he could switch gears was like a fucking superpower. I knew he was struggling. Mom and Dad’s deaths had hit us both hard — but that was why I wasn’t going to the house. I didn’t want to try to comfort him or be reminded of them at every turn. This?
Two words: hot guy.
His apartment was so clean that I was afraid to walk on the rug, and he eyed me when I tried to take a step from the mat onto the floor. Message received. I took my shoes off and set them neatly on the rug.
Cade visibly relaxed.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Glad you could come,” he said.
I earned at least ten maturity points by not leering at him and telling him that I hadn’t come yet.
“Me too.” I closed the distance between us, half-expecting to fall on my ass in my sock-covered feet on his slippery floor.