Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
It was good to just be still for a while.
It had been a rather remarkable thing, watching Ashton bully the hospital staff into releasing Brand to recuperate at home. Eyes flashing, voice firm, Ashton had spoken with the clear expectation that he would be obeyed, and the authority to back up his demands. For those few moments, while he’d marshaled everything from orderlies to help dress Brand to transportation to pick them up, he’d been every inch the CEO of Harrington Steel.
Only to collapse into a very worried, very tired young man the moment Brand had managed to haul himself from a wheelchair and into the bed in Ashton’s suite.
Brand lay against the sheets and just let himself hurt for a few tired moments; he had a prescription for painkillers, but he didn’t want the haze of drugs just yet. Not when it would take him away from the sweet feeling of Ashton tucked up against him like a kitten, watching him as if afraid, if he blinked, Brand would disappear.
“I guess it’s my turn to take care of you,” Ash murmured.
“I fear for my recovery prognosis,” Brand groaned dryly, and Ash grinned.
“Even I can’t burn toast.”
“The house would be a smoking ruin, but you would leave the toast intact.”
Ash laughed. “Oh, fuck you.”
“In a week, you will regret those words.”
“So you can’t do anything for a whole week?” Biting his pretty pink lower lip, Ash pushed himself up on one hand. His other hand slipped beneath the duvet, trailing down Brand’s side in sweetly ticklish touches…only to ghost over his hips, tracing the line of his cock through his loose cotton sleep pants. “Not even this?”
Then that slim hand curled over him—kneading his cock in slow, massaging strokes, pleasure cutting through the pain with a knife’s keen edge to leave Brand gasping, burning, as his cock swelled to hardness, that bold little monster teasing him with light swirling caresses only to firm his touch as if enveloping Brand in the tightness of a clutching, willing body.
“Ah—ah, Ashton—” Brand tried to lift his hips toward that touch instinctively—only to subside with a hiss when every muscle protested. Gasping, he rolled his head against the pillow, toward Ash, watching him with slitted eyes. “I did not give you license to be such a brat.”
Ash’s eyes glittered wickedly. “I’m still your boss. Sometimes I get to decide.”
“Only if you want your arse smarting for it later,” Brand growled.
“You just like having excuses to keep me in line.”
“And you like giving me reasons to,” Brand countered—only to break off in a sharp inhalation as that light touch stroked once more, teasing him to full hardness, the throb of it aching all the way to the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers tight against the bedsheets. “Mnnh…young Master…”
“Can I, Brand?” Ash pleaded softly. “Can I take care of you?”
That soft note of entreaty drew Brand to open his eyes, looking up at his wide-eyed young lover. In those eyes he saw what Ash was really pleading for: something to remind Ash that Brand was alive. That he was here. That they were together, and no single sideways twist of fate could pull them apart.
“Yes,” he whispered, when there was no other answer he could give.
Not when he would give his young Master anything.
And he gave him his pleasure, as with a low, needy sound Ash drew the duvet down, bared Brand’s flesh…and pressed that mouth that begged so sweetly to the head of his cock. Liquid warmth enveloped Brand, submerging his entire body in pleasure, until the pain was only a taste of something sharper to accent that heat. He curled his fingers in Ash’s hair, parted his lips on broken gasps…
And this time, let himself give up control.
ASH SNUGGLED AGAINST BRAND’S SIDE, nearly burrowing into the bed. Brand was asleep again, after eating a rather messy sandwich Ash had made and at least managed not to poison him with. He’d spent nearly half an hour making a medication chart on his laptop so he’d know when Brand needed what pills.
Then promptly glued himself to Brand’s side, content to count his breaths and remind himself that Brand was okay with every rise and fall of his chest.
Brand was okay. His father was going to be okay, once he came out on the rougher side of chemo and the transplant. The company was going to be okay, now that Ash had half an idea of what he was doing.
And Ash was going to be okay, as long as he had Brand to hold his world together.
It probably wasn’t right. Wasn’t safe. Wasn’t smart, to hinge his well-being on someone else this way. But he was in too deep now, and didn’t know if he wanted to pull back. Not when it was what they had both said they wanted.