Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
As soon has he swept his tongue along Ansel’s bottom lip, he opened, not just his mouth but his legs and arms as well. They moved until Fitch was settled on top, their cocks straining alongside each other, arms gripping and clutching at bare flesh. Ansel wrapped his legs around Fitch’s waist and thrust his hips up. Their mouths fused together in a carnal lip-lock that could probably make the devil blush, it was so fucking vulgar.
Fitch couldn’t remember ever being this turned on, especially after he’d already come. The fact that this was happening now, with Ansel—a man, blew his mind. But he was beyond caring, with every nerve begging for a touch of Ansel’s skin and every taste bud aching for a taste. The only thing on his mind was satisfying the hunger.
“Damn, this is crazy,” Ansel panted when they unsealed their mouths.
Fitch moved to suck on Ansel’s Adam’s apple. Between licking the bump and grazing his teeth down Ansel’s neck, he managed to ask, “What is?”
Ansel’s fingers dug into his ass and he trembled beneath him. “I just fucking came, like, five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, it was hot.” He moved to suck on Ansel’s earlobe, and finally inhaled a whiff of the perfume he’d missed. Growling into Ansel’s skin, he burrowed into the scent.
Ansel cursed. “Lube. We need the lube right fucking now.”
* * *
Ansel struggled to get out from under Fitch, but the guy had his mouth on his earlobe and wouldn’t let go. The sparks shooting down his spine were too tempting. But he wanted Fitch inside him, needed it. His ass was practically fucking purring at the thought. He pushed hard at the giant shoulder above him.
“Lube, Fitch. Or I’m going to go off from the friction alone.”
Fitch grunted and bit his ear. It shouldn’t have sent a torrent of pleasure to his toes, but it did. They curled. Stupid toes.
He pushed again, even while his hips tipped up to get more of what Fitch was offering. Not only could the guy suck dick like a motherfucking pro, but he could also get him hard again in minutes.
Too good to be true. He’d better remember that or else he’d be lost down a sinkhole of pesky, crippling affection. No one wanted that, especially him. Maybe, with luck, Fitch would be the worst ass-fucker in the world.
In a move he rarely used, Ansel hooked his foot near Fitch’s knee, grabbed his elbow and tugged while rotating his hips, toppling them over. He ended up on top. Fitch blinked up at him in shock.
“How’d you do that?”
Ansel ignored the question. “Fuck me now or die.”
Fitch chuckled. “Damn, you really are impatient.”
“It’s your fault. I’m not usually raging so hard.” He leaned over to the bedside table and got supplies from the drawer. He set the foil condom packet and a tissue on Fitch’s chest, and pumped a couple squirts of lube onto his fingers.
“I can do that,” Fitch said when Ansel reached around to stretch his own hole, but he looked a little worried at the thought. Ansel didn’t take offense—most heterosexual guys had no clue about how to prep for anal properly and they tended to have a hang-up when it came to buttholes.
“I can’t handle more of your teasing,” Ansel said to set Fitch at ease again. It worked. When he met Fitch’s hooded gaze the guy looked like he was holding himself back from his new favorite snack. It was kind of intense, and scary hot. “This won’t take long.”
“Don’t rush, I like watching.” Fitch gripped his hip with one big palm and ran the other down Ansel’s chest and stomach. Ansel’s cock sprang up between them like one of those bobble-head dolls. Bounce, bounce, bounce, every time he twisted his finger to spread the lube. Hissing, he pressed a second digit inside and scissored. He might be a slut, but it’d been a few days since he’d had something up his ass.
Fitch took Ansel’s cock in hand and gave it a firm stroke, which worked as a distraction from the slight pain.
“Next time, it’ll be my fingers opening you up.” Fitch sounded confident now, like within the last minute he’d talked himself into wanting it.
Ansel gasped at the words and the punch of pleasure they caused. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”
At his question, Fitch surged up into a sitting position so they were face to face. His burly arms tightened around him, one big hand cupped the back of his head.
“This,” Fitch said, before devouring his breath in a core-searing kiss. Fitch had such a solid hold on him, he couldn’t have fought it if he’d wanted to. With his fingers still jammed up his ass and his free arm trapped at his side, he was awkwardly stuck. To his eternal and forever private humiliation, he loved it. He basked in the restraint, in knowing he could do nothing but surrender. So for a few brief moments, he just let go of all his barriers, his denials, his worry. He gave it up and flew into the heat of Fitch’s kiss.