Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Anything from God yet?”
“No.”
“Oh, yeah.” Judge closed the distance in a couple strides and yanked Michaels’ phone out of his hand.
Michaels growled angrily and stood up, nosily knocking his chair over. He reached for his phone but his wrist was gripped tight as Judge pushed him back to the wall with his chest. He brought his other hand up fast and Judge just dodged it, securing both of Michaels’ fists above his head. The vibration emanating from Judge’s chest was having an effect on Michaels’ groin that he didn’t want it to have, especially since Judge was using his body to keep him pinned to the wall. They were face to face, but Michaels had to tilt his chin just a bit to look into Judge’s eyes. He was pissed to see amusement in them. “Let. Me. Go,” Michaels hissed.
“Ohhh. I forgot I got a fighter on my hands,” Judge purred. With his meaty hand still holding Michaels’ against the wall over his head, he tapped the screen on the phone and looked at the messages he’d been reading.
“Fuck you,” Michaels snapped. “Don’t read my personal emails, that’s none of your goddamn business. I told you if I had information I’d share it with you.” Michaels’ argument was falling on deaf ears as Judge continued reading his email from Justin. He’d emailed and texted him a few times since Michaels had choked him a few days ago on his parents’ deck. Why he still wanted to fuck was beyond Michaels’ comprehension. Obviously Justin still itched but was too scared to get someone else to scratch it. He immediately saw when Judge read the one sentence that would confirm that it was a man begging for Michaels’ cock.
Judge turned back towards him, his face completely unreadable. If this man turned out to be a homophobic jackass then… Michaels turned off that train of thought. There was no way this man could be such good friends with God and Day and hate gay men. So what was that look he was getting? Did he not want him in the same room with him when he slept? What?
“You finished?” Michaels snarled. “You want to answer it for me too? Reply back. ‘No thanks, been there… hit that… I’m done.’”
Judge still hadn’t released him and if Michaels really wanted to, he could’ve been out of that hold a while ago. Maybe a part of him didn’t want to. Maybe it was best if Judge knew, and there wouldn’t be any surprises.
“You’re a one-hitter-quitter, huh, sweetheart.” Judge’s voice was rough and irritated when he finally spoke. He tucked Michaels’ phone in his pocket for him before finally releasing his wrist. Michaels rubbed at the bruised and red skin, his frown deepening when he brought both hands up and shoved hard. Judge didn’t go flying back against the table, but it was enough to get him out of his space. Judge smirked and licked his lips.
“Keep your fucking hands off me, Judge, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me—” Michaels huffed. “You know what. Never mind. Let’s just go. And by the way, you’re welcome for breakfast, ya ungrateful bastard.”
Michaels waited by the door, peeking out the window first to be sure it was clear. He felt Judge come up behind him, pressing way closer than he needed to. Now he’s just fucking with me, since he knows I’m gay. Michaels didn’t take the bait, he didn’t overact and try to shove Judge away or scurry out the door. He steeled his back and calmed his breathing.
“You want gratitude sweetheart?” Judge leaned against his back, pressing him into the door. The whisper was erotic but harsh. His mouth so close, his beard tickled his neck. “Stop picking fights that draw attention, and stop walking off with my fuckin’ dog.”
Chapter Fifteen
Judge drove down I75, careful not to keep glancing over at his passenger, who he was seeing in a whole new light. This sexy motherfucker is gay. According to that email he’d rudely snagged and read Michaels must be the fuck of the millennium, the way that spineless man was begging for his dick. Was he a fuck buddy gone bad or a one-night stand? Didn’t sound like it. The guy said, “They’d had a good thing once.” Maybe he was an ex. Why do I care? Judge was driving himself crazy with the useless questions. That was not what he did. He got ass when he felt like it, then he moved on. But since he’d found out Michaels’ orientation for sure, he wanted to fuck the cocky sonofabitch next to him so bad that his stomach cramped. How had Judge found himself in this situation? If he could reverse time, he’d go back and tell God “hell no” to this partnership.
When he’d finished getting dressed at the hotel, he’d heard the commotion downstairs with the hooker. But Judge didn’t draw attention to himself. He moved through life with a purpose, and anything that wasn’t directly related to that purpose, didn’t receive his time or energy. Imagine his surprise when Michaels appeared out of nowhere and started kicking ass like it was a hobby. All Judge could think about was reprimanding Michaels for being such a bad boy. Judge groaned, trying not to squirm in his seat at the thought of holding the feisty man down and fucking the fight right out of him. Shit.