Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
That cry nearly turned into a scream of pleasure as he kicked just the wrong way, opening himself—and Brendan twisted his entire body to force between Cillian’s thighs, bringing them hard together, Brendan’s cock grinding against Cillian’s hips with an insistence that turned into a threat.
He froze, panting, eyes snapping open; the entire time Brendan hadn’t said a single word, his silence building into this oppressive menace that made Cillian shiver deep. But not nearly so deep as when he met dark, compelling eyes; when that gaze stripped him open with something so commanding, so enthralling, so frightening when Brendan looked at Cillian with an obsessive focus that seemed to see nothing else.
That seemed to promise him he would not escape this night whole.
And no matter what he did…
Brendan wouldn’t stop until he’d taken everything he wanted.
Cillian’s entire body prickled, that look cutting deep until he trembled—apprehension, anticipation, he didn’t know, the knot in his stomach was too tangled, his entire body nearly burning with sudden awareness of his own vulnerability, of every point of contact between them, of the building tension making his toes curl, his fingers frozen against Brendan’s shoulder, captured in that intense gaze and unable to even fight so long as Brendan looked at him that way.
On the surface Cillian was terrified—afraid of what this man could do to him, afraid he wouldn’t stop.
But underneath…
Cillian burned.
The heat bristling on the air between them, the latent energy rising to a screaming peak and ready to break, the raw eroticism of their tangled bodies, the scent of desire on the air and crawling down Cillian’s throat on panting breaths. This…this was what he wanted, and it cut through flesh straight through his heart to know…
Brendan was doing this for him.
Brendan was taking them both to this dangerous, thrilling edge to make Cillian happy, to give Cillian what he desired…
…to show Cillian he trusted him, just as Cillian trusted Brendan.
Enough that he didn’t have to be on his guard, always tensed and waiting for that moment when fiction crossed a line into reality; when the rules were no longer enough to keep him safe. He was safe, with Brendan.
Safe enough to fully let go, and sink into it completely.
Safe enough to forget the men who had taken this pleasure away from him, when this…
This was for him and Brendan alone.
For a moment, he caught a gleam of warmth in Brendan’s eye, a subtle flicker of his lips, as if to say I know. As if Brendan saw the rushing emotions threaded between them in this fragile and building moment, as if he could touch these things inside Cillian and stroke them into blooming. For just a moment, he smiled back.
Before he broke off into a choked, broken cry of pain as Brendan dragged his head back roughly and descended to sink his teeth into his throat.
Cillian jerked, arching and twisting his body as pain rushed through him with a sweet and coursing heat, pleasure igniting in a hot concentrated point beneath those burning lips, radiating outward as Cillian fought Brendan only to drag against him, inner thighs moving against Brendan’s taut-flexing body, cock grinding against the hardened ridges of his abdomen. Pain, pleasure, fear, anticipation ripped Cillian back and forth between them in a shredding tug of war, and he struggled against that pinning grip on his hair, his wrist, pushing ineffectually at Brendan’s chest.
“Stop,” he gasped out. “Don’t—don’t, please, I don’t want—I don’t—stop!”
Brendan didn’t stop.
Instead that brutal hand wrenched roughly at Cillian’s hair, pure dominance, pure aggression, as Brendan let out a deep growl against Cillian’s throat, biting down harder—only to let go of his hair, leaving his scalp burning, to catch at his free hand, grapple, snare around his wrist and force it down until he was trapped, wrists pinned to either side of his body, forcing his back to arch into the body moving over him in deep, punishing thrusts. So sudden—sheer power rippling over Brendan’s body as he drove his hips down hard against Cillian’s, grinding into him like punishment and torture, forcing their cocks together in rushes of deep pleasure that hit with the sharp impact of gunshots, bursting over and through Cillian until every slamming impact nearly felt like coming. He couldn’t hold back his voice, inarticulate cries, his body forced to move helplessly to the rhythm of Brendan’s as every thrust crushed him into the bed.
So heavy—surrounded by the consuming scent of maleness, of some storm-hot thing made up of aggression and desire, trapping Cillian until he couldn’t escape. And he couldn’t escape as Brendan tore his lips, his teeth, from Cillian’s throat…and descended on his mouth again, devouring him, kissing him in an onslaught of hot-sliding lips and glistening-slick trails of wetness and a thrusting tongue that nearly fucked his mouth in obscene penetration until Cillian whimpered, gasped, nearly shrank away from the sense of being violated, shamed, perverted, even his mouth used as an orifice to taint, to enter, to invade.