Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
So fucking weird.
Wait a minute…
I walk back into his room, and my eyes fixate on the Mubōna Ikari—whatever the fuck that means—poster on the wall. One character, with black hair and orange at the ends, bares his teeth and holds a sword outward. The other character, a smaller guy with white hair that hangs down over one eye while shaved short on the other side, smirks as he toys with a small but lethal-looking knife at his side. Obviously, it’s a good versus evil story. The sword dude is the bad guy for sure, making sense as to why Canyon wants to dress up like him. I snort out a laugh.
“Something funny?”
That’s twice now this guy has caught me nosing around in his room. I shrug and gesture at the poster. “Didn’t take you for a nerd.”
Heat envelops me from behind, and Canyon rests his chin on top of my head. It should feel condescending as fuck, but it doesn’t. Warmth curls in my balls at our proximity. His soapy scent invades me, taking up residence in my lungs.
“Anime isn’t nerdy. It happens to be really popular,” he argues, his breath tickling my hair.
I suck in and hold my own breath when his palms settle on my hips. Not wanting to break the moment because his touch feels like electricity pulsating through me, I remain perfectly still and say, “But the dressing up as the villain is the nerdy part.”
“No, I dress up as Daisuke. He’s the good guy.”
“He’s dressed in black and looks mean.” I point to the bigger character with black and orange hair. “Looks villainous to me.”
“Actually,” he says, his voice hitching and sounding giddy, “Chibi is technically the villain. Well, his parents are. He was basically born into a Japanese mob family. Their families are enemies. Through over half the series, Chibi and Daisuke are always battling.”
My eyes flutter closed when I feel his fingers tease at the flesh just above the waistband of my jeans and under my T-shirt. His touch is frustrating. I want to hate it, but I don’t. Not even close.
“What happens halfway through the series?” My voice is a mere whisper, gravelly and hoarse.
“They get a taste of each other’s lives. Before they knew what the other dealt with day to day, they were envious of each other.” His palm slides up over my stomach, making me nearly whimper. “Once they saw how it really was for the other, they began to feel bad. They went from hating each other, to understanding each other, to befriending each other.”
“So enemies to friends?”
His chin leaves the top of my head to brush his lips against my ear. This time, I can’t contain the shudder that trembles through me. “Enemies to lovers.”
My heart pounds hard in my chest. Whatever war that’s been going on between us feels out of our control now. We’ve somehow gone from opposing sides to meeting in the middle, the magnetism drawing us together rather than pushing us apart. I want him to unfasten my jeans and take my cock in his hand. To stroke me until I come. Just like this. While we stare at the dumb cartoon characters.
His hand tickles its way up toward my pectoral muscle, dragging my T-shirt up along with it. He brushes a thumb over my hard nipple, making me squeak out in surprise.
“So sensitive,” he taunts before pinching me. “I bet you’d let me do filthy things to you. Like bite your nipple while my dick was inside you. Am I right?”
I groan at his words and give him a clipped nod. When he takes control of my body like this, I can’t think straight. I forget all reasoning and lose sense of reality. We may as well be the two characters on the wall.
“You want me to fuck you even though you hate me.” His whispered words seem to tingle through my every nerve ending. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t hate you.”
He tugs at my nipple again. “Well, I hate you enough for the both of us.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
I cry out when he shoves me against the wall, his body pressing against me so I feel the very stone-like impression of his massive cock. His grip on my nipple relaxes, and he lazily rolls it between his thumb and finger, driving me insane with need.
“Canyon,” I beg. “Please.”
“What do you want, Wonderland?”
“I don’t fucking know. I just…”
His other hand snakes down to palm my dick over my jeans. A moan tumbles out of me. Hot lips find the side of my neck, sending currents of fiery desire straight to my balls.
“I want it too,” Canyon admits. “Fuck, how I do.”
We’re breathing heavily and writhing against one another when I hear Carrie’s voice as she comes up the stairs.
“Pizza rolls are ready!”
Canyon jerks back, stumbling away a few steps. I pull myself from the wall and keep my back to the door so his sister doesn’t see my raging erection.