Don’t Judge Read online A.E. Via (Nothing Special #4)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Nothing Special Series by A.E. Via
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
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Judge actually chuckled hoarsely against the side of his neck. “Yes. Just what you needed.” Judge kept one hand loose on his throat; the other gripped his hip and pulled him back onto the last couple of inches. “Ahhh. So damn deep, Michaels.”

Hell fucking yeah, it was deep. He felt impaled, as if Judge could lift him off his feet and hang him on that thick pole. His eyes were still tightly closed, he willed his body to try to relax; it wouldn’t feel good otherwise.

“Breathe.”

Judge’s raspy voice sounded like he was struggling a little too. Michaels felt him pull out a few inches and slide back in just as slowly. He felt his eyes rolling behind his closed lids, the friction and the heat making him ache for something more. Judge inched out about halfway and drove back in again. The burn was fading and the pleasure was spiking. He couldn’t stop trembling, that thick pipe inside him had adrenaline racing through his body. One of the most intimidating men he’d ever met was behind him, losing himself right along with him. “Damn.”

“Mmm. Take it all.” Judge pulled one of Michaels’ cheeks aside and drove as deep as he could, murmuring his approval when Michaels went up on his toes. He stood there on shaky legs, braced against flexed arms, being a passive lover. He was not a goddamn submissive, by any means. Judge’s cock was about to get a helluva ride. It was supposed to be healing for him and he was going to get real proactive with his therapy. Michaels reached over and turned off the taps, the water was getting colder, and he was done with Judge’s hips slapping the water against his ass.

Michaels wiped his eyes and turned to look down at Judge’s cock halfway in his ass. Hell it was big, bigger than he’d ever taken, just a bit bigger than his own. He reached between his legs and stroked his own meat, his fist tight and slick. With the other he tugged on his balls. Judge pushed in again and his fist flew fast over his cockhead, bringing his orgasm front and center, chasing it to the finish the line, until Judge grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them behind his back.

“The hell?”

“Don’t touch your cock until I say so.”

“The fuck?” Michaels was baffled. If Judge thought he was giving him that much damn power, he was grossly mistaken. Yeah, he was bottoming for him, but he was one bossy-ass bottom.

With his hands still behind his back, Michaels pivoted on one foot, turning and pushing them until Judge’s back was against the tiles and Michaels was against his front; sandwiching him. Before Judge could object to the new position, Michaels slammed his ass back against Judge’s pelvis, burying him deeper than before. Judge gasped and clamped his arm around Michaels’ chest holding him close to him. “Ahhh, fuck!”

Michaels inched forward just barely before he slammed back again. The force was powerful, the sound of his ass slapping against Judge was hypnotic. So he chose a fast, heart-pounding rhythm and got to work on his rehabilitation. He used Judge’s dick like he owned it. It was a head rush. Judge behind him, tall and brooding, probably wondering when he’d lost his grip on the reigns. But, oh how good it felt. Like nothing ever. That hot, pulsing rod turning him inside out. There was no anger, no feuding, no one he could think of that he had a score to settle with. There was only pleasure. Immense, mind-blowing pleasure.

You little arrogant bastard. Mouth open and dark eyes hooded, Judge spiraled into an ecstasy he wasn’t used to. All he could do was hold on while he got his dick waxed by the most aggressive bottom he’d ever encountered. That tight ass held him and any rational thought he may have had completely captive. Just a few seconds ago he’d had a hand around Michaels’ throat and was guiding his hip with the other to a pace he’d set. Now he’d dropped Michaels’ hands and lay pushed against the wall taking what Michaels threw at him, and fuck was he throwing it. Brutal. Each backwards thrust was emphasized with a hard grunt, like he was fighting with him in a whole other way. He’d definitely underestimated the detective’s strength.

Shit. His balls were drawing tight, clenching up close to him. This was not what he’d had in mind. I’m about to fuckin’ come so hard. Judge’s face was frowned up, his brow sweaty, his eyes closed while he concentrated on holding off his orgasm. Both his hands were resting on those narrow hips, no longer guiding, while Michaels rode him vertically. “Motherfucker,” he moaned, on one long glide of Michaels’ searing hole down his cock before he slammed himself on him. He looked down and saw Michaels beating his own dick with one goal in mind. Hadn’t he told him not to touch it? He wanted to punish him but… but… “Ohhhh, fuck.”


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