Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Vars’s chest expanded as he watched this controlled emission of flames. The scent of smoke joined the pleasant aromas of bacon and coffee. “I know you do,” he said in the end, swallowing as he accepted the cigar back.
Jake bit back a smile and fed Vars more bacon in maple syrup before he could savor some of the smoke. “If I can carry you down the corridor without stopping, you’ll let me take a ride on your Harley. If I can’t, I’ll polish your boots?”
Vars hummed, chewing on his food while wordlessly encouraging Jake to eat his own. He didn’t comment on the fire, his eyes somewhat unfocused, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. “There’s one more thing we’d have to make clear. What will you polish my boots with?”
Jake realized he’d only had a bite himself, so he quickly stuffed his mouth full of goodness. “Why? Do you use some special polish? I’ve got good quality wax.”
Vars pulled some of the cigar smoke into his mouth and leaned in, moving the tip of his nose over the side of Jake’s face, triggering an unexpected wave of arousal when the hot smoke was finally released, caressing Jake’s flesh. No man took his time with Jake this way, and it was as new as it was overwhelming. “I know you’d have done it for me anyway, so that’s not really a challenge. But there’s one thing I really wanna see.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “So full of yourself. What is it?” But his face was hot when he thought about kneeling in front of Vars’s leather-clad legs and polishing his boots for him as Vars smoked his cigar. Jake wanted that. The scent of smoke was intoxicating enough, but to sense it mixing with leather and wax? Just thinking of it was stirring arousal in his balls.
Vars’s breath came out dark, raspy when he looked into Jake’s eyes. “I have a pair of black leather boots. New. Never worn. I would like you to put them on me and then polish them with your tongue, boy.”
Jake imagined himself doing that naked.
He swallowed, watching Vars as if hypnotized. He was lucky the tray rested over his lap, because his body’s visceral reaction to such suggestions would soon show. Jake opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say, but his phone ringing saved him from having to make a decision right away.
He held on to his coffee and leaned away to pick up the call from Knight. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Where are you? It’s almost nine!” Knight said on the other end of the line.
Vars pulled the fork out of Jake’s hand and fed himself, which immediately stirred an odd sense of guilt inside Jake.
“Err… did I promise to be somewhere?” Jake racked his brain, but nothing came to him.
“No, but you’re always in the garage in the morning. Did Beast send you off somewhere?”
Jake rubbed his foot over Vars’s shin with a smile and sipped his coffee quickly. “No, I was just… busy. I can come over if you need me.”
Vars pushed his lips against Jake’s ear and bit on the lobe, rubbing the beard against Jake’s neck. “I can make you come way faster.”
“Yes. Come to the kitchen. Is Vars around? Take him with you,” Knight said and finished the call.
“But Knight wants you too. We have to hurry,” Jake said even though he’d gladly roll around in the sheets with Vars, getting drizzled with maple syrup. Duty came first.
Vars wordlessly pointed at Jake’s food and went on to shovel all the contents of his own plate into his mouth. It seemed that eating breakfast was not negotiable. Neither were clothes, as Jake had to wear a turtleneck to hide the collar.
Ten minutes later, they were on their way to the kitchen when a tall figure in white appeared ahead, with pale hair twisted into rolls on either side of the man’s hair. He wore some kind of period clothing, and Jake actually missed a step when the stranger rushed toward him, as if he intended to attack.
“There you are! What took you so long?” Asked the stranger in Knight’s voice.
Jake cocked his head to the side, only now understanding that he was in fact looking at Knight. “Are you wearing makeup?”
Knight blinked. White paint, rouge, fake beauty marks and a heavy layer of powder on his hair transformed him so drastically he was unrecognizable. He took a deep breath, as if the answer needed for him to appear bigger and more masculine. “It’s not makeup. I’m wearing a costume, Jake.”
Vars’s shoulders tensed, and Jake didn’t need to see his face to know he was fighting the urge to laugh. It was so odd to see a man like Knight getting defensive about a little bit of face paint.
“So, why do you need us exactly? Do you want us to carry you in a sedan chair?” Vars asked, turning Knight’s sharp gaze at him.