Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
He had another guy nuzzling his neck. It felt nowhere near as off-putting as Ian had expected.
Ian ran his fingers through Miles’s hair, and felt Miles’s body go completely pliant, soft, and relaxed. Miles was breathing unevenly, rubbing his face against Ian’s throat like an overgrown, affectionate kitten. If he were a kitten, he would probably be purring, Ian thought, amused.
“I want more,” Miles whispered, sounding surprised. “I want to lick your Adam’s apple. May I?”
Once again, Ian wondered how this had become his life. He was straight. As straight as it got. Any other man would have gotten punched for this shit, but this ridiculous boy made him incredibly indulgent. Miles was right: he really was going soft.
“Go ahead,” Ian said with a sigh.
Something moist and soft pressed against his neck. Miles’s tongue. And then there were lips and teeth.
“Miles,” Ian grated out.
“Sorry,” Miles muttered, licking the spot he’d just sucked and squirming closer to him. “I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted…”
Ian said wryly, “I think we can safely conclude that you aren’t really asexual.”
“But I’m not hard yet,” Miles said conversationally.
Fucking hell.
Ian gritted his teeth. “You aren’t a teenager.” Barely. “You don’t have to get hard from something as innocent as this.”
“I guess,” Miles said. He sounded unconvinced.
Ian heaved a sigh. “Fine. Let’s try something else.” He slipped his hand under Miles’s t-shirt and let it glide over the smooth expanse of Miles’s back.
Miles made a small sound. “You’ve got amazing hands,” he murmured against Ian’s neck. “They feel good.”
“Still not hard?” Ian said, unable to believe they really were having this conversation. It was a feeling he got far too often around Miles.
“Nope. You’ll have to try harder.” Miles giggled at his own pun.
Ian’s lips twitched. “You’re such a child.” But he slipped his hand around Miles’s ribcage until his thumb brushed against a nipple. “Still nothing?”
Miles sucked in a breath. “Do it again.”
Ian’s thumb touched the nipple again, stroking it lightly. He felt it harden.
“Oh,” Miles said, breathless, before tugging his shirt off. “More.”
Ian stared at his bare chest for a moment—it was toned and smooth and very male—before bringing his other hand up too. He played with those hard nipples idly, and watched as, gradually, Miles fell apart. The sight was entrancing: Miles’s green eyes slowly glazed over, a flush spreading over his face and his lips parting as he breathed unsteadily.
Miles’s gaze seemed to be torn between Ian’s face and Ian’s fingers on his own nipples. “Can you do something for me, Ian?”
Ian. He’d had never thought his name could sound like this.
He nodded.
Biting his bottom lip, Miles looked at him with a mix of shyness, trust, and wantonness. “Can you suck on them for a bit? Just a little bit?”
As though in a dream, Ian found himself nodding. Whatever you want.
He pulled the boy up, making him straddle his lap so that his chest was closer to Ian’s mouth. He bent his head and took one tiny nipple into his mouth.
Miles whined, his fingers burying in Ian’s hair. “Fuck, more.”
Ian obliged. He sucked and licked Miles nipples, alternating between them, and felt Miles shake in his arms, Miles’s quiet moans the only sound in the room.
Soon enough, Miles started squirming against his mouth. There was an unmistakable bulge against Ian’s stomach. When Ian looked down, he could actually see the head of Miles’s cock peeking out of his shorts. The sight was weird and obscene, but strangely hard to look away from.
Ian supposed the experiment was successful—there was absolutely no doubt now that Miles wasn’t asexual. He should stop and push him away. But it would be cruel to stop when Miles was clearly enjoying himself, whispering Ian, Ian, Ian, please between breathy moans and fisting Ian’s hair in his hand. It stroked his ego, too; Ian couldn’t deny it. So he continued licking and nipping Miles’s pink nipples, allowing the young man to grind against his stomach, Miles’s moans spurring him on. Oh god, oh god, please, Ian—
It wasn’t entirely a surprise when Miles suddenly tensed against him, his hand gripping Ian’s hair, and came with a groan.
Ian grimaced at the wet feeling. He thought, not without humor, that he really should have changed before coming here.
“Thank you,” Miles said at last, still sounding a little breathless but more like himself. He kissed Ian’s cheek. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”
Ian snorted, gently pushing him off his lap. “And how many bosses have you had?”
Miles grinned impishly. “One.” He winced, looking down at himself. “Gross. I need a shower. And Liam probably woke up already.” He glanced at the sketchbook. “Are we done?”
“For today,” Ian said, surprised by how very not awkward it felt.
Miles gave him a sheepish smile at the door. “You should change. Sorry about that shirt. It looked nice on you.” And then he was gone.