Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Fine.” Marc nodded. “We go in tomorrow at two a.m. Angelo will take down the security system, and I’ll get us up to the library. He and I will get the painting while Royce stands guard. We should be in and out in under ten minutes.”
“Sounds like fun.” Angelo lay back on the bed and spread his arms wide. “Do you want to pass the time with me here, or should we go back to where you’re staying?”
“Good night, Angelo. We’ll meet you at the southern edge of the grounds at one a.m.” Royce then firmly took Marc’s hand and pulled him out of the room.
“No fun!” Angelo called after them as the door shut.
Royce wordlessly led them out of the hotel, his hand tightly wrapped around Marc’s, half pulling him down the street, but not toward the garage where they’d stashed Marc’s rental car. He wanted to ask Royce what was wrong, but that seemed like a stupid question. The list was long and varied. Was he upset over his mother, Marc’s plan, his stupid past with Schmid, or even his past with Angelo? Or maybe it was all of the above.
They walked a block before Royce jerked them down a narrow, dark alley. Marc opened his mouth to ask Royce what he was doing, when he was suddenly pinned against the wall. Royce covered his mouth with his own, thrusting his tongue in deep while grinding his dick against Marc’s. There was no stopping the moan that rose up his throat and was immediately swallowed down by Royce. The relief was instantaneous but only threw more fuel onto the fire. Royce kissed him like he planned to eat him alive.
A whimper escaped him when Royce moved his groin back, but it was only enough to let his hand sneak between them. He roughly tugged on his pants, and there was soft ping like the metal button had popped off and bounced across the stone pavement. Strong fingers dove into his briefs and wrapped around his aching cock.
“Fuck, Royce,” Marc cried out, breaking the kiss on a gasp. He tightly gripped Royce’s shoulders to steady himself. He was so damn hard, and Royce was stroking him fast and rough, pushing him headlong into an orgasm that he couldn’t hope to stop.
“Tell me Angelo was right,” Royce snarled.
“What?”
“This is for me. This is mine.” Each sentence was punctuated with a squeeze of his dick so that Marc could barely drag air into his lungs.
“Yes. Fuck, yes. All for you. Only you.”
Royce continued to stroke him in earnest like he owned Marc’s cock. He was only too happy to hand over ownership to this man. Fuck. He could barely breathe. Couldn’t think. The orgasm just slammed through him. He was coming before he could even warn Royce. A shout escaped, hitting the night before Royce could cover his mouth with his own. He felt his spend hit his stomach and chest, but he didn’t care. Royce kissed him gently through it, whispering something…something about perfect…but his brain wasn’t working just yet. He only knew that he didn’t want it to end, didn’t want Royce to ever stop kissing him.
His brain only kicked in when he felt Royce smear his semen into his chest before setting his clothes to right.
“Let’s get you back to the bed and breakfast so you can get cleaned up,” Royce murmured, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“We’re good, right?” Marc asked before he could catch the words. His brain was still too blood-starved to make much sense, but Royce’s chuckle proved that he understood.
“You’re going to have to give me all the details of how you met Angelo, and then I want to hear about the chair. In detail.” Royce was a step ahead of him, but Marc could hear the smile in his voice. “But this…I just needed to stake a claim before we went any further.” Royce stopped and looked back at Marc. “I’m not sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be. Stake a claim any time you want.”
Royce smirked and then continued walking. Marc picked up his pace to catch up, his heart pounding. He wanted Royce to stake a claim, to feel like he had a right to Marc’s body, his heart. But only because Marc wanted to possess Royce in the same way.
“Can we trust Angelo?”
Marc sighed, some of the joy he’d felt drifting away. It was time to get back to business. “I know he doesn’t give a great first impression, but Angelo is actually very trustworthy. He does have a strong moral grounding. Yes, he’s a thief, but he likes to think of himself as a pornographic Robin Hood.”
“Your life is weird, Marc.”
“Yeah, but it’s rarely boring.”
Chapter Seventeen
What the fuck were you thinking?
Rowe’s voice repeated over and over in Royce’s head as they approached the massive Italian estate. Not only had he allowed Marc—a fucking client—to get dragged into his personal problem, but he was allowing Marc to break the law and take part in a dangerous heist. Jesus fucking Christ.