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)
With a hollow grunt, Trig pushed forward, swallowing as El’s cock entered his throat. His face darkened, but he didn’t stop, and put his hand on El’s ass, leaving it to rest there, between flesh and tiles.
El spread his legs wider, and let his head fall back, giving into the electric currents running up and down his body. Every lick and suck was worth so much more than the anonymous fucks from men he didn’t much care for. Trig’s tight throat was meant for taking him, and he moaned, making his desire clear. Even that massive biker club tattoo wouldn’t keep El away tonight.
Trig hummed around El’s length when his lips squeezed the base of El’s cock, locking around it as if he’d rather choke to death than let go before drinking El’s juices. The shower room spun to the hurried rhythm of slaps, and El whimpered when he realized Trig was jerking off while he blew him.
His cock drove in and out of the hungry mouth, but the sight of Trig’s dick, so thick and stiff while Trig worked it with his hand, was what drove El to the edge. When Trig’s fingers slid into the crevice of El’s ass, orgasm crashed over him like a tropical downpour.
El spilled cum straight into the heat of Trig’s mouth, crying out, rocking his hips, and squeezing Trig’s wet hair in his fist.
Trig’s fingertip slid into El’s hole, and he swallowed down the remaining cum, shaking under El’s touch. He shot up immediately, lapping at El’s navel, both of his nipples, and then flattened El against the wall, kissing him with spunk-tasting lips.
Fuck, El couldn’t even describe how much he’d missed this. And if he didn’t run soon, he might end up trapped.
Chapter 6 – El
The motorcycle vibrated between El’s legs as the lights of Detroit glimmered in the night, leading them toward the clubhouse. Riding in the bitch seat gave him the perfect excuse to hug his ex from behind without committing to anything, but he was sure that the question whether they were still exes after the double fuckfest was surely on both their minds.
El hadn’t had sex this satisfying in years, but the shitty way their relationship had ended made him even warier of people than he’d already been. If Trig, the man who claimed to love him, could leave him for a shiny motorcycle and a leather vest, then how could El expect sincerity from anyone else?
And after falling into bed with him, El wasn’t certain he could trust himself either, but when he held on to Trig’s sturdy form while the bike roared between their thighs, other choices were too vague to consider. Trig might be wrapped in a shroud of resentment woven out of five years filled with broken hopes, but he had saved El’s life, so a tentative truce was in order. Especially since while El had grown wider in the shoulders himself and had got many new tattoos since their parting, he didn’t have the strength and skill to protect himself from men like those who’d chased him down earlier tonight.
Trig, on the other hand, might not have turned into a man-mountain, but he had wielded those knuckle knives with the confidence of a master assassin. If such things existed in real life. He was the same man, yet changed, as if he’d grown more teeth and sharpened his nails into claws. This dangerous yet tender predator held El by the nape, and a part of El didn’t want him to let go.
Lost in thought, he barely registered when country roads were replaced by highways, and the views around them became increasingly urban, so he held on to Trig with even more force. Trig claimed the Coffin Nails had several gay members nationwide, so maybe El didn’t need to fear violence based in homophobia, but after the terrible day he’d had, he wasn’t ready to face the people who’d taken Trig away from him. His fight-or-flight instincts were skewed to flight and told him to bolt at the first opportunity. The Moreno Cartel would find him and come for him if he stayed in the state, and he couldn’t count on luck for his safety.
The hair at the back of El’s nape bristled when the bike slowed on a dark road that for some reason buzzed with rock music. A gate opened with a metallic creak, and fumes of beer, leather, and motor oil engulfed them both. Several lamps illuminated a large courtyard of uneven concrete slabs, but while groups of people were scattered within sight, chatting and smoking, he couldn’t help but see danger in every shadow.
“Hey Trig, we want to meet your Prince Charming!” a bald man shouted drunkenly, but when he made a step forward, a lady with big red hair placed her hand across his mouth and giggled, rising to her toes to whisper into his ear.