Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Before he knew it, Rafe was coming hard down the back of Hop’s throat, never losing that gaze. His entire body jerked as waves and waves of fire pushed him under. It felt like he hadn’t come in decades, and the eddy of relief that followed was almost as good as the orgasm itself.
Afterward, still spinning and lightheaded, he watched Hop lick him clean, nuzzling his spent cock as if it were a prize.
“Thank you,” Hop whispered before resting his head on Rafe’s thigh.
Drained from such a mighty high, Rafe simply brushed Hop’s hair off his face.
“That’s a good pet.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hop’s knees ached. His cock throbbed. His ass burned. His jaw hurt.
But damn it, he was happy.
He’d be content to stay right where he was until Rafe told him to go. Fuck the pain, it was worth it. Because Rafe combed Hop’s hair with gentle fingers, like he couldn’t not, like petting him was as necessary as spanking him, soothing him.
Owning him.
“Hush,” Rafe said when Hop sniffed. The rumble of his voice rolled through Hop everywhere they touched. Hop rubbed his face into the seam of Rafe’s pant leg, wanting to bury himself in Rafe’s scent. To get it everywhere, so deep it couldn’t be washed away.
But he knew that was impossible. He knew this was just a tryst, something wonderful but fleeting. Perfect because it was temporary. Still, he wanted. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting even if it was foolish.
“How did you know?” he asked, his voice hoarse from having Rafe’s cock jammed down his throat. It had been in the back of his mind, this question. How had Rafe guessed?
“I have a sixth sense.”
Thank God, he hadn’t asked what Hop meant. It’d be hard to explain after everything they’d just done, after everything he’d allowed. He was too raw.
Somehow, Rafe knew that, like he’d known everything else.
Rafe continued to caress him in that soothing way. “I’m surprised it took me this long to recognize it in you.” There were undercurrents of regret in his tone.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Nothing could have changed their past. They’d both been young and stuck in a loop of action and reaction that hadn’t even been their fault.
Hop wanted to ask why Rafe had never told him he was gay. All that time, he’d felt isolated because of his sexuality and Rafe had been there. If he’d known...
No, hadn’t he just said that nothing would have changed? Besides, there’d been no reason for Rafe to confide back then. They’d never been friends.
Still weren’t.
Now they were something else, something indefinable.
Rafe pressed a finger between his brows. “Stop thinking so hard.”
Hop flicked his gaze up and noted the sweat pebbled around Rafe’s hairline and the muscles in his face and neck that were loose and relaxed. Pride swelled.
“Yes, sir,” Hop said, just to watch Rafe’s eyes heat. Damn, but that approval did such delicious things to him. He pressed his thighs together and clenched his asshole as lust pooled in all the places he wasn’t allowed to touch.
“Hop,” Rafe said, then paused to swallow. “I’ll know if you disobey me.”
Hop didn’t doubt him for a second. “I won’t.”
“Jesus, you’re flawless. Where the hell did you learn exactly how to twist me up?”
Hop’s heart actually fucking rolled over and he didn’t bother hiding his joy when he smiled at Rafe. “I guess I’m a natural.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Rafe didn’t laugh. There was only sincerity in his eyes. “You’ve never been trained?”
“Uh, in what? The erotic arts of kinkiness?” He shifted away.
Rafe sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Yes, or more specifically submissiveness.”
That word, that label, at once exactly right and terribly, terribly wrong. The very definition of it went against everything he believed of himself. A submissive was ready to conform to the authority or will of others. They were obedient and passive.
That was not him.
He was strong. He was smart and capable.
He was a fucking Sassy Boy for fuck’s sake.
Meek was not a word people would use to describe him. His friends called him ballsy and controversial and he embraced those descriptions wholeheartedly.
Submissive? Not so much.
The part of him he’d tried so hard to kill yearned to be acknowledged, but how could he allow such a thing in real life? He was empowered, damn it. Not weak. He was bold and confident—hell, just watch him on stage.
He couldn’t be a submissive.
But he knew that was a lie, deep down, he’d known all along.
“There’s really training?” He’d read of such things, but the idea had scared him.
Rafe’s eyes closed briefly and he held himself so still, as if he were fighting a monster deep inside. “Christ,” he said. “You’re amazing.”
Then those deep, dark eyes opened and pinned Hop as surely as darts and it was everything Hop had always wanted.