Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
But sometimes, the desire to feel a hard body against his own became too much and Tristan had little choice but to scratch the itch: sexual frustration made him snappish and bitchy, which was something he couldn’t afford, since it was far harder to be a good, nice guy when all he wanted was a hard, rough fuck to relax. And when he wanted a hard fuck, his choices were very limited.
That was why Tristan was here.
The club was dark and foggy, with the distinctive smell of sweat and sex. There were lights on the stage, which were the first thing to catch the eye as he entered. The stage on the right was currently empty, but the one on the left was occupied by a naked brunette, who was flogging a stunning blonde. Strobe lights sparsely lit the large, crowded room, barely allowing him to make out individuals grouped in twos or threes—or more. It was one big orgy. The stench of sweat, sex and alcohol drenched the room, seeping into everything. Several rows of couches lined the walls, but Tristan didn’t bother watching the occupants of them.
As he made his way through the club, numerous hands groped and petted him, trying to pull him closer. Grimacing, Tristan shrugged the hands off. He’d never been into orgies. He was bad at sharing; he always had been, even when he was a kid. But to be honest, that was just one of the reasons. The truth was, he couldn’t quite suppress the uneasy feeling in his gut every time so many strangers touched him. No matter how many times Tristan told himself it was safe enough here, it was an exercise in futility. Some habits never died. He was used to taking care of himself from a very young age, and back then, every stranger was dangerous. Even after he was adopted, things hadn’t changed much. The DuVals had been kind people, forever involved in charity causes and volunteering work, but they had little clue what to do with a child and were more than happy to leave him—and later Gabriel—to his own devices. Tristan had been fine with it. Relying on other people was silly; he had always known that. He was on his own, as usual.
“Looking for someone?” a husky male voice said, grabbing his arm. “Maybe me?”
Tristan stopped and squinted at the man in the semi-darkness. Although he couldn’t see him all that well, the guy seemed fairly attractive and didn’t seem like a creep. Just a normal, horny guy looking for an anonymous fuck. He wasn’t much taller than Tristan, but the hand on his arm was big and strong.
“You’ll do,” Tristan said. “I have a very strict condom policy. No body fluids.”
The guy laughed, pulling him closer. “Don’t worry, me too.” His hands moved down Tristan’s body, feeling him up. “Nice,” he murmured, sliding his hands under Tristan’s pants and kneading his cheeks. “You wanna blow me or—”
“Fuck me,” Tristan said.
“Okay, I can definitely do that,” the guy said with a chuckle, turning him to the wall and starting to work on his belt.
Tristan pressed his forehead against the cool wall and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in and tried to relax, but the persistent arousal that had been buzzing under his skin for the last few days was absent. Instead, he felt…uneasy, like he was doing something wrong.
“Absolutely not.” Zach’s eyes, hard and steely.“Sex is off-limits.”
Tristan shifted from one foot to the other, trying to force the memory out of his mind. He wasn’t going to obey Zach’s orders, like—like a good little boy. He wasn’t. He wouldn’t.
His pants were being pulled down—
“Hey, what—” The guy made a startled noise. “What the hell, mate? Find someone else, I’m not sharing!”
“Sod off.”
Tristan’s eyes snapped open, his pulse skyrocketing. Zach. It was Zach.
“Whoa, easy there! Okay, I get it.” The guy stalked off.
Slowly, Tristan turned around. He could barely make out Zach’s features in the semi-darkness, but he didn’t need to see his face well to feel the anger emanating from every rigid movement of his body, see it in his set jaw.
“Are you stalking me?” Tristan said, zipping up his pants.
Zach said nothing. He merely grabbed Tristan’s wrist, his grip like an iron band, and dragged him toward the exit.
His breath coming in harsh gasps, Tristan stumbled after him.
“Are you stalking me?” he asked again once they were outside.
Zach remained silent, dragging him toward his car. He opened the door, shoved Tristan inside, got in the driver’s seat and then they were off.
After a few minutes of charged, angry silence, Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. “Cat got your tongue?”
Zach said nothing, his eyes on the road. He was so tense it was making Tristan squirm a little.
“You won’t make me feel guilty,” Tristan said. He hated how defensive he sounded. “I did nothing wrong.”