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)
By the time Azariah came out, towel wrapped around his waist with steam coming off skin that smelled fresh and masculine, the plates were warm and waiting on the table and Connelly had opened a couple bottles of beer. As a distraction from the tempting sight, he chugged the amber liquid down so fast his eyes watered.
He’d forgotten just how solid Azariah’s body was. Muscles rippled with every graceful movement; even injured he seemed lithe. Yes, he was slender, but his abs were so defined they should be considered a dangerous weapon.
“I didn’t want to put those dirty clothes back on...”
“Just a sec, I’ll get you shorts.” Connelly stood too fast and slammed the bottle on the table hard enough for it to slosh.
“You have shorts that will fit me?” Azariah followed him to the closet.
“Well, no, probably not. But I have a pair with a drawstring. That might stop them from sliding off.” He dug through the pile of gym clothes stacked on the shelf until he found an old pair of basketball shorts. “Will these work?”
Azariah grabbed them and let the towel drop.
Connelly couldn’t hold back his groan of shocked desire. “Fuck, Azariah.”
Azariah looked up at him through his lashes. “What?”
Connelly couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to. His eyes were glued to Azariah’s beautiful cock, so hard it was leaking. The swollen head glistened with precome like a juicy treat. And God, his mouth watered to taste it again, to feel Azariah come on his tongue like he’d dreamed of ever since their phone conversation.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we might not make it back into the kitchen, Hot Fudge.” Azariah’s voice was husky and it sent goose bumps over Connelly’s skin.
He stepped into Azariah’s space. “The food will keep. I need to have you now.”
A second later their lips were pressed together and he was teasing his tongue into Azariah’s mouth. The kiss was hungry and desperate, just like Connelly. It tasted of smoky licorice and the robust woodsy flavor of whiskey. The combination was heady enough to make Connelly seek more. He twisted his tongue along Azariah’s, deepening their kiss until they both moaned.
With his thumb he traced the sharp edge of Azariah’s jaw, currently rough with facial hair. He liked that contrast. The scrape of those prickly hairs made the softness of Azariah’s lips and the slimness of his hips so much more interesting. Connelly pulled back, nibbling Azariah’s bottom lip like he’d been wanting to do all fucking night.
Azariah squeezed Connelly’s forearm. “Goddamn, Hot Fudge.”
“Sit.”
Azariah sat on the edge of the bed and Connelly knelt between his knees. Like the last time, he swallowed Azariah’s cock until it hit the back of his throat. Azariah fell back on his elbows with a groan.
“Yes,” he hissed, as his body undulated under Connelly’s assault. “Fuck, yes. You are so fucking good at that.”
Connelly moaned in reply and cupped Azariah’s balls, rolling them gently and causing a shiver to rack that slender body. With his other hand he gripped the length and stroked in time with his bobbing head; up and down, teasing the lip around the flushed head, occasionally nipping it with his teeth. He was lost in the act and flooded with endorphins, his body buzzing on an unparalleled high.
How was it possible to miss something so much after just one taste? Because God, he’d missed this. Missed it so fucking much. He hadn’t realized just how much until he was on his knees. But now Azariah’s scent wrapped around him, his taste filled him, his heat flooded him, and it was heaven. Pure heaven.
There was no way he’d ever be able to let this go without a fight. The thought caused his fingers to claw into Azariah’s muscular hips. Like, if Connelly clutched hard enough, held on tight enough, this beautiful enigma wouldn’t slip out of his grasp again. Between the two of them there was so much desperation in the air, it settled over them both like a thick blanket. With every sigh, every groan, every breath it grew thicker and thicker, simultaneously comforting and suffocating.
But Connelly didn’t care. He couldn’t think about anything but the beautiful cock in his mouth. About the heat of it, the salty taste of precome, the girth that stretched his lips wide and the length that tickled the back of his throat.
As Azariah’s sounds escalated, Connelly sped his movements, urging the inevitable orgasm closer and closer.
Faster. Harder. Deeper.
But he didn’t want the night to end so quickly, not after days of no contact. They both needed more. So he slowed down, and when Azariah whined his complaint, Connelly lifted his slender legs until his knees were near his sweat-glistened chest.
“Hold your legs up,” Connelly said, still so close to that perfect cock he was sure his breath ghosted over the wet tip.