Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Stiffening, Raffaele peered at him cautiously. “Who told you that I called you that?”
Damiano shrugged, taking another drag. “There’s very little that doesn’t reach my ears, brother dearest.”
A sigh.
“Why are you really here, Damiano?” Raffaele said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Damiano gave him a flat look. Did he really think he was going to explain himself?
Raffaele studied him for a long moment. “Are you here to see Jordan?”
It took every bit of his self-control to keep his expression blank. “Jordan?” he said, feigning faint bewilderment. “Who is that?”
Raffaele eyed him for a while. He was an exceptionally smart, observant man. But he had always lost to him when they had played poker: he wasn’t good at reading him.
Damiano could tell that he bought it—bought that Jordan had been so insignificant in the grand scheme of things that Damiano might have actually forgotten his name half a year later.
The fact that Raffaele believed it made it all the more aggravating that it wasn’t true. Jordan should have been insignificant enough for him to forget him. This… obsession was so wildly out of character for him that of course Raffaele had believed his lie.
His mood changing for the worse, Damiano got to his feet. “Show me my room,” he said curtly, walking deeper into the house.
Behind him, Raffaele sighed, but as Damiano had expected, he acquiesced. Of course he did. He wouldn’t risk upsetting the unstable sociopath around his boyfriend. People with significant others were so predictable it was mind-numbingly boring to manipulate them.
He had thought Raffaele would be more of a challenge—he used to be—but it seemed caring for someone made him weak.
It always did.
***
Dinner was a quiet affair. Nate did most of the talking, and somehow managed not to sound awkward at all while doing it. He was one of those friendly, easy-going guys that were instantly likable.
Damiano still found it hard to like him. He looked too much like Jordan and somehow not enough like Jordan. He was irritated with himself for being unable to stop making those comparisons—and for thinking about the fact that the real thing was just a few miles away.
No. He wasn’t here for this, damn it. It was one thing to keep calling Jordan and watching him jerk off like a creep, and completely another to enable his obsession and actually visit him in person.
He wouldn’t do it.
He wouldn’t.
You know the funniest part? I would totally raise your kids.
Damiano stabbed the piece of beef on his plate with his fork, put it into his mouth, and chewed aggressively.
Try as he might, he couldn’t forget that drunken confession. The words were innocuous, but what they implied wasn’t—and he kept fixating on it, unable to forget.
Unable to let go.
Chapter 23
Jordan set down the last present and surveyed his handiwork. Every present for his family was accounted for, every single one of them meticulously chosen and perfectly wrapped. A Christmas tree was twinkling merrily in the corner by the living room window, perfectly decorated. He’d even hung Christmas stockings over his fake fireplace. Everything looked perfect.
He still couldn’t feel the Christmas spirit, his mood gloomy and his heart not really in it.
He knew why, of course. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He felt down because Christmas was about spending time with loved ones, and the person he wanted to see the most wouldn’t be around. It made him feel cold on the inside.
Sighing, Jordan got to his feet and went to the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help him feel warmer.
His soapy hands trailed over his body, teasing over his nipples, which immediately hardened, and then stroking his stomach before wrapping around his half-hard cock. He gave it a few uninterested strokes before ignoring it in favor of his hole. He was so used to having something inside him these days that he easily slipped two fingers in. He gasped and set his feet wider, enjoying the slight burn and stretch. He almost didn’t like using lube—it didn’t burn as much with lube. He liked it a little rough, Jordan had found.
But soon, the fingers weren’t enough. Jordan pulled them out before turning the water off and reaching for the lube on the shelf. He generously lubed up the suction-cupped dildo on the wall, stroking the familiar girth and shape with relish. The first dildo Damiano had sent him didn’t have a suction cup function. It was in his bedside drawer and got very regular use. This one Jordan had ordered himself, an exact replica of the other one but with a suction-cup base. He used it when he got horny in the shower and wanted Damiano’s cock in him pronto.
Jordan turned his back to the dildo, lined it up with his hole, and slowly pushed back onto it, groaning at the stretch. So fucking good. He couldn’t believe he’d spent thirty-two years of his life having no idea how good having a cock in his asshole felt. It made him feel like a total cock slut, but these days Jordan couldn’t go without being fucked in the ass once a day at the very least. He knew he was completely addicted to this feeling, but he didn’t know how to stop. It was the only thing that made him feel good outside of Damiano’s calls: the replica of Damiano’s cock filling him up and making him feel complete.