Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“You’re jealous,” Trig whispered, but his voice echoed off the tiles, making El flinch.
“I know it doesn’t make sense. You’re your own man, and shit, but now I think of this Grim guy, and how he’s been there when you were so terribly hurt, and I just…”
“Grim’s not my type. I honestly don’t know how his man handles a dick that big, but maybe he’s a size queen. And I’m afraid that having all my limbs makes me unattractive to Grim, so there’s nothing going on between us.”
That might just be the weirdest reassurance El had ever been offered.
He frowned. “What? How big is his dick? And how do you even know that?”
Trig grinned, but once it was clear he was naked, El’s insolent gaze strayed between Trig’s legs, to the cock that had fucked him so recently, and the balls that produced the cum that still kept El warm on the inside somehow.
He was such a lecher. And since that called for punishment, El switched on the shower without waiting to adjust its temperature, and tensed when icy droplets hit his head and shoulders.
“Everyone’s seen it, and you will too. Looks painful is all I’m saying,” Trig told him, stretching as he entered the stall. He was showing off, and it was working.
He’d always been tall and handsome, but the muscles Trig had gained changed his figure into that of a big cat stalking his next meal. For years, El had missed the boy who left him behind to join a gang, but now he found himself longing for the man Trig had become, even though after such a long time apart, the closeness he felt might only be an illusion.
“That’s messed up.” El took a deep breath, scanning Trig’s body again. It had a good amount of hair and was so firm, so well proportioned El wanted to step closer and hug him. “No other tats?” he muttered, glancing at Trig’s forearm as the water heated.
Trig turned around, shocking El with a massive blackwork design that matched the one at the back of his vest. It depicted a coffin, with a skeletal hand reaching out from under the lid, and spoke of the commitment Trig had chosen over El. But before anger could have consumed El, Trig pointed at the injured forearm wrapped in plastic.
“Only two things in my life were worth celebrating on my skin.”
El bit his lip, glancing at the ever etched into Trig’s flesh, so small and insignificant in comparison to the artwork adorning his back. “One’s clearly bigger,” he mumbled and put his head under the water again, keeping the injured arm away from the splashing droplets.
He kept his cool when Trig came closer, but when warm breath danced over his damp skin, he couldn’t keep from shivering.
“And who’s a size queen now?”
El had to laugh. “I’m not being petty, just stating the obvious.”
His toes curled when Trig’s scruffy chin pressed on his shoulder from behind.
“Would you come back and trust me if I got a tattoo related to you bigger than the one on my back? How about a massive picture of your face on my chest, hm?” he asked and rested the side of his head against El’s as he embraced him from behind.
“Idiot. What next? My cock on your forehead?” El had meant to wash his hair but instead ran his hand over one of the strong arms holding him. How was he to deny this need? Such terrible things had happened tonight, yet in Trig’s arms, he felt safer than he had in years. He could almost forget that a bloodthirsty cartel was still after him and convince himself that the attack had only been a nightmare brought on by too much booze.
“Does that turn you on?” Trig asked without missing a beat, but instead of caressing El’s chest, he took hold of the wrapped forearm and made it rest close to the wall, more worried about it than El was.
El’s cheeks heated at the memory of their spontaneous fuck. There was one word for it: explosive. The kind of sex you can only have with someone who intimately knows every inch of your body. Many things had changed over the years but not this.
“How am I supposed to wash myself with one hand?”
“Maybe you don’t have to do everything yourself?” Trig asked, and his warm tongue trailed the side of El’s neck, making him rise to his toes. El should refuse the caress and establish a healthy distance, but how the fuck was he to navigate this situation when his cock already was that bit heavier? It didn’t help that the water now felt pleasant on his skin, like smooth fingers caressing him all over.
Just this once, he’d ask for help. He’d be gone from Detroit tomorrow, but wasn’t he allowed a moment of weakness? A voice at the back of his head screamed about the people who would surely come after him, and that involving himself with Trig meant becoming dependent on the Coffin Nails, the very biker club he resented for taking his man, but he wanted to give in.