Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Ezra couldn’t help but feel that the small scar on his chin, which he’d so carefully treated over the past two years, was becoming more visible without the daily application of cream, and just earlier today, he’d discovered a pimple on his temple. It wasn’t immediately apparent from behind his dark hair, but a clear sign that the cosmetics the clueless Prospect had chosen at the supermarket were of even lower quality than the ingredient lists suggested. Not to mention that the cheap hydrating cream was doing a shitty job at hydrating, and the scrub contained crushed walnut shells, which Ezra refused to put anywhere near his precious skin.
Soon enough, he’d have dry skin flaking off his nose like some unkempt wretch, and Frank would see that everything about him was a carefully maintained illusion. What would happen then? Would he need to make concessions where he didn’t want to make them, to make up for being a sub-par product?
His gaze drifted to the bottom drawer of Frank’s bedside table, where he’d found all the sex toys during the frantic search through his host’s things. Apart from their first night together, Frank never voiced a desire to tie Ezra down, but there was a lot of bondage gear in that damn drawer, and there was no way Frank wasn’t fantasizing about using it on Ezra every time they fucked.
Ezra, the beautiful escort, could easily say no, but could Ezra the man in need of protection do the same without suffering the consequences? The truth he was unwilling to consider was that if a man as big and strong as Frank wanted to tie him down, or break both his legs to keep him from running, Ezra wouldn’t be able to stop him, but refusing ropes and cuffs offered him an illusion of control he wasn’t willing to give up on.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about it. In the safety of his imagination, Frank could strap him to the bed, use a blindfold, and tease Ezra until he shook, desperate to come. Causing pain wasn’t Frank’s thing. He liked to give pleasure, to watch Ezra lose control, and most likely, he’d use the bondage to edge him until he begged, unable to touch himself—
No.
No bondage.
Bondage was an unnecessary risk, and while he wanted to make Frank happy and keep his attention for longer, he’d allowed it once in the past, and paid for it. Nothing terrible had happened, but his client wouldn’t release him when asked, and the imprisonment went on for so long that Ezra ended up pissing himself. He never saw the guy again, but the humiliation stuck with him like a brand on the forehead.
And now that he thought back to that, his bladder felt unnaturally full, so he left the bedroom and went to the small space next door. Frank kept it clean and had refurbished it to a high standard—that couldn’t be denied—but it was utilitarian to the point where it looked as basic as the showers at Ezra’s gym. Every single surface was white, with the exception of a mirror Frank must have gotten somewhere on sale, since it had a frame with cartoony fish. Ezra had attempted to decorate the bathroom with a rug, and hung up a framed Ferrari poster gathering dust in the corner of the guest room, but this place needed more than that—at the very least matching towels, and a fresh coat of paint in a color that wasn’t white.
He was in the middle of relieving himself when the rumble of a car engine outside startled him so badly, he flinched and ended up pissing on the seat and floor.
Fuck.
He was losing it.
Despite the safety Frank provided, the revelation about Paul left him skittish like a bunny about to get a heart attack over a branch breaking behind it.
“Hey, Frankie!” Shane said outside. “Slaving away for your pretty cabin boy?” he asked, referencing the night of the blood moon.
Ezra exhaled and glanced toward the small window. It was cracked open but opaque, so he finished relieving his bladder and moved straight to the much-needed clean up. Shane might be all smiles, but he was a shark. Ezra could feel it in his bones and didn’t want to let him smell blood in the water.
“This bike is in good condition. Ezra and Ros like each other, and this will make moving between our homes easier until I fix the Dodge,” Frank said as Ezra sprayed the seat and floor with bleach before wiping everything with toilet paper.
“You think that will make him stay? What if he uses that thing to ride away into the sunset?”
Ezra dropped the disinfectant-soaked paper into the toilet bowl and stared at the window as his stomach sank in anticipation of Frank’s answer.
Frank groaned. “You’re such an asshole, you know that? I’m not keeping him here by force, but he’s also not going anywhere far on a bicycle. I told him which routes he’s allowed to take, and which to avoid.”