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)
“Tell me you’re touching yourself.”
“You think I’m going to miss an opportunity to come by the sound of your voice?”
Fitch crooned. “You like my voice?”
He could barely speak with the way his heart was racing. “It gives me fucking goose bumps.”
Fitch’s chuckle was wicked and ended with a guttural groan that curled Ansel’s toes. “I love the way you smell. I’m holding the T-shirt I wore during your lap dance. It still fucking smells of you.”
Holy shit. The thought of Fitch getting himself off to his scent almost made his balls explode.
“Thank you, Viktor and Rolf,” he said.
“Who the fuck are they?”
The edge of envy in Fitch’s deep voice sent delicious shivers down Ansel’s spine. “They’re the designers who made the perfume. It’s called Flowerbomb.”
“Oh, then yes. Thank you, indeed.”
“Christ, I think you’re trying to murder me.” He squeezed his cock and arched his back. Jerking off had never been so much fun before. It usually took him much longer to get to the point where he couldn’t catch his breath. There was something about Fitch’s voice, it was addicting.
“How would you want it? Do you want to ride me again?”
Ansel hissed as his cock twitched, memories of their single night together making the questions come alive.
“No. I want you to take me from behind, hard and fast. Dominating.”
Fitch groaned. “You like to be held down, don’t you?”
Ansel didn’t answer, but he was pretty sure his gasp was all the proof Fitch needed.
“My kinky little angel, fuck. I wish you were here right now.”
“Me too. I miss your weight. I want you on top of me, pressing me into the mattress.”
“Yeah, Angel. Squeeze your cock for me, let me hear you.”
Ansel groaned then, a loud long groan as his knees came up. He wished he had time to get his dildo, or at least lube up his fingers. Because he really wanted that stretch in his ass and to remember how Fitch had felt inside him.
“Fuck, Fitch,” he whispered after. “I want you so bad.”
Fitch’s answering growl sent shooting stars straight to Ansel’s balls. “Damn, I want to fill you. I want to feel that tight hole squeeze me.”
“God, yes.” His whole body was on fire now, pulsing and seeking for the cause of its pleasure, and Fitch’s absence brought a whole new level of frustrated desire surging through Ansel’s blood.
“How close are you? Because I’m about to come.” Fitch’s harsh panting breaths were evidence of his rising need.
Ansel moaned, his hips lifting off the bed over and over, seeking the end. “Really fucking close.”
“Yes, Angel. God, your sex noises turn me on. Fuck, I wish I could watch you come.”
Ansel’s fist whipped faster up and down his straining cock, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want distractions. He just wanted to fall into Fitch. The image of him lying on the bed was seared in his dreams. The hard, hairy body ready for the taking. And those eyes, yes, those damn chocolate eyes. He’d drown in that gaze and leave the world behind.
“I can’t be too loud. I don’t want to wake Ange.”
“If I were there I’d cover your mouth so you could be as loud as you needed.”
“Yes, oh fuck. Shit. Yes.” He came in a torrent, his body convulsing in pleasure.
On the phone, Fitch cursed in his sexy growl. Ansel didn’t move, didn’t speak. He wanted to hear every noise.
On the last breath of a fading groan, Fitch whispered, “Ansel,” and it sounded like a plea.
Chapter Nineteen
“Why did you get me a whole bottle?” Ansel tried not to let his alarm show. Fitch had bought him a gift that was worth more than a week’s worth of groceries. It was expensive and way too generous, even if Fitch’s family did own their own construction company.
Such a gift was a big deal. A statement.
His stomach roiled and he pressed his hand to it. He’d never had a lover buy him anything before and had no idea how to process it.
“It was the smallest they had. I thought you’d like it.”
He did. He liked it way too fucking much. That was the goddamn problem. He’d been looking forward to tonight even though he’d tried not to. After their phone conversation, he hadn’t been able to distract himself. He didn’t want to ruin their second date by having a panic attack.
Ansel looked up from the shiny gold gift bag stuffed with rainbow paper and the pretty pink box of Flowerbomb nestled within, and smiled at Fitch. The guy had taken the time to get him a gift they could both enjoy.
“Thank you,” he said. The words were sincere, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to run away. As sweet as the gift was, it had to be too soon for such a gesture. They’d only known each other for less than two weeks. Ten fucking days.