Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
But these asshats in front of him didn’t stand a chance. He’d talked to Syn and Day about getting a couple demolitions experts and another sniper, but that was a ways off. Regardless. When he did start to recruit again, there was no way he’d look to them. They’d be in it for the wrong reasons. The recognition and commendations weren’t the reason they risked their lives every day, it was because of their love for this city and respect of the job.
“You’re a vulture, dude,” Day threw back at Vasquez. “You’re treating our squad like it’s a fuckin’ orgy you want in on. Go on, we’re done with this conversation, you’re bringing down my buzz.”
Vasquez jerked his head back, his face a contorted mask of anger. “Fuck you, Day.”
God rose up from his seat and Vasquez put his hands out in front of him, sealed his ignorant mouth, and backed away, pulling his friends with him. God stared at them with a look that said, “Don’t bring your asses over here again,” and eased back down in his seat, pulling Day back into him. “Piece of shit. I don’t want him in the department anymore. Something about him, now. He’s changed.”
“I agree.” Day turned around and ran his hands through God’s long hair. “Now forget about that and give me some more of what you started.”
God leaned in and kissed his soon-to-be husband. After a couple lingering presses of their lips, he gripped the back of Day’s head and pushed his tongue inside, tasting the vodka and a hint of strawberries from the fruit tray. God closed his eyes and lost himself in the headiness of his partner. And didn’t break apart until the whooping and beer bottles banging on hard surfaces made him smile against Day’s mouth.
“Hey, what kind of bachelor party is this? Where are the strippers?” someone yelled from the other side of the loft. God couldn’t see who it was, but it made him laugh. He didn’t need a stripper, the hottest man there was already in his arms.
Syn stood on top of one of the bar stools and yelled over all the raucous laughter. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t entirely sober, either. Ruxs lowered the music and everyone turned their attention towards them. The music changed to that annoying ass song God hated, the one made notorious in the movie Magic Mike. Ginuwine’s “Pony” started up and God had an urge to run. What had his team done now? The lights went low and someone turned on a slow-moving, white strobe light and shone it on them.
“What do we need some ratchet strippers for, when we have two of the sexiest men alive right fuckin’ here!” Syn yelled.
Green and Ruxs pulled God and Day to the two huge recliners that’d been positioned in the center of the room. The guys were already forming a wide circle around them, ready to watch whatever his team had cooked up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” God grumbled, slouching down in the chair. He looked over at Day and saw a look that mirrored his own. Ready to be humiliated.
“Gentlemen, brace yourselves and get ready for your dicks to harden to the point of pain!”
After they’d all finished laughing, Syn continued, pointing towards the steel steps that led upstairs. “Gentlemen, I give you Furious and Blair!”
God turned his head and saw Blair and Furious slowly walking down the stairs. He knew both of these men were once professionals in the world of sex, but he’d never thought he’d see them in action. He swallowed hard when Blair turned the corner. He had a wild look of hunger in his exotic light brown eyes, a gold barbell pierced in his brow and large diamond earrings his ears. God looked down at long legs encased in black leather pants and – oh hell – bare feet. Both of them. Blair’s shirt was an ultra-thin, starched white button up, but the last two and the top two were already undone. His hair was tousled all over his head like he’d just had a good time in the bedroom, and God had to admit, he wore the hell out of that look. Furious came around the stairs next, and as soon as he was in view, he pulled at the band that confined his hair in a bun and shook his head, letting that thick, dark gold mane fan down his back and around his face. A round of cheers exploded and the music went up louder. Furi had on tight blue jeans that had holes in so many places they left very little to the imagination. He had on a snug black tank top that God had a feeling was going to come off soon to show all those delicious tattoos inked over his chiseled abs.