Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
At Connelly’s words, Z’s asshole fluttered madly. “No. I need you to fill it.”
That deep growl came again sending shivers over Z’s skin. “With what, fingers? Cock? Or, how ’bout my tongue?”
Z’s imagination flooded with hazy dreams of Connelly eating his hole. His ass cheeks would be stretched wide so the star was exposed. Connelly’s hot breath would whisper across the sensitive skin right before his tongue flicked at it.
“You like that idea, don’t you?”
“Hell, yes.” Who wouldn’t?
“You know how good I am at sucking cock?”
“A goddamn master.”
“I’m even better at rimming.”
Z groaned. “Holy shit.” Pleasure zinged through every nerve in a ripple from his head to his toes. “I don’t think I’ll last much longer.”
“I want to fuck you so bad right now.”
Z grabbed his balls with his free hand and quickly pulled at them in an effort to stall his orgasm. “Don’t, God. Don’t say things like that.”
“Can’t help it. I’m half-delirious.”
“Too much blood rushing to your little head?”
Connelly’s gruff chuckle did more than just make Z smile. It wormed its way into that widening crack in his defenses he’d been unsuccessfully ignoring and curled around the newborn wishes that had started to take root inside. He was too close to the brink right then to care a great deal, but he knew later it would be all he’d focus on.
“I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck.”
Z let go of his sac, spread his thighs, and increased the speed of his strokes. “Me too.”
Connelly’s rumbling moan could have been thunder for the vibration it sent through the phone. The reverberation sent Z’s cells dancing until he was thrusting up into the air and shooting his seed across his chest.
When it was over, every muscle in his body melted into a puddle and he was sure he would sink into the mattress and never be heard from again. With a puff of breath he let the last bit of pressure release.
“Now that was worth whatever headaches tomorrow brings.” Connelly’s post-sex delivery was full of gratification, enough that a little of it leaked over to Z.
“Expecting trouble, Detective?”
“Only the usual gang members, drug dealers and thieves,” Connelly said, but something in the way he’d grumbled the words felt like an accusation.
Z ignored the weirdness. “I’d say that comes with the job, but what do I know? I’m just a waiter.”
Connelly’s sigh was reserved. “You’re far more than a waiter and you know it.”
“Stripper then.”
“No. Not that either.”
“Do I have a third job I didn’t know about?”
“You’re a rock star, babe. A blinding cosmic god towering above us simple humans.”
“Stop it.”
“Why?”
Because I can’t handle you being nice to me. “Because your compliment game is weak.”
“I only speak the truth.”
“That’s not truth, that’s fantasy. I don’t do fantasy, remember?”
“Okay, no fantasies. Here’s something one hundred percent honest.”
Z held his breath, waiting. If more romance came out of Connelly’s mouth he wouldn’t have a choice but to hang up on him.
“I’m going to have very, very sweet dreams tonight thanks to you,” Connelly said.
“Now that, I can tolerate.” He heard Connelly’s yawn through the receiver. “I think it’s time to say good-night, Hot Fudge.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for another mind-blowing orgasm.”
“Sleep well, Azariah.”
Z hung up, wiped off his chest and pulled on his pajama bottoms again, his heart craving something he’d only just begun to acknowledge. But he couldn’t give in to that painful yearning no matter how good it had felt talking to his detective or how easily Connelly could bring him to the edge. He shouldn’t even have allowed it to go this far, but the temptation had been too strong.
As he curled onto his side, he knew he’d probably made a big mistake.
The only thing he should be focused on right now was staying off the streets.
Chapter Fifteen
“Are we ready for one last run-through with music before we call it a day?” Tam asked.
Z was still catching his breath from the last piece of choreo. Exhaustion pulled at him, every muscle twitching with exertion. They needed to polish this routine up quick if they wanted to be ready for the performances tonight, but he was having a hard enough time not collapsing.
They’d debut these two new dances in less than seven hours. Hopefully the crowd would appreciate it because he felt like his heart was going to explode from the frantic pace.
Probably didn’t help that he’d barely slept at all. If Ansel hadn’t called to wake him up again, he might have missed rehearsal altogether. But somehow he kept his eyes open and did his best to follow Tam’s insane instructions with only one-third of his usual brainpower.
He’d been an absolute idiot staying up until dawn just to...what? Fulfill ridiculous romantic ideas? He’d been kicking himself for the weakness since he’d peeled his eyes open that morning. So far the boys hadn’t commented on his pissier-than-usual mood. They probably sensed how dangerous speaking up would be to their well-being, because Z’s irritation was simmering just below the surface. Surely they could feel the heat.