Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Is there any way we could talk about anything—”
“So I go sneaking in there, and it’s lucky we weren’t attacked by ninjas or something because you wouldn’t have heard shit over him, but the door was ajar, and I looked in, and you’re on top and he’s under you, eyes closed, begging as I noted earlier, but your face… I saw your face, and all you wanted was to be done.”
“You’re wrong. I—”
“Why are you lying about this?” He took hold of my bicep. “You can’t possibly believe that somehow your masculinity is in question if you like to be fucked instead of being the guy doing the fucking.”
Easing free of his grip, I walked away, into the house, and took the stairs to my bedroom. He couldn’t possibly understand, and I had no way to explain that would make any logical sense.
I took a seat on my bed, facing the window, and a moment later, I felt him rather than saw him in the doorway. When I turned, he was there, smiling at me, and the way his eyes lit up and his lips turned up in the corners made my heart hurt.
“Can I come in, or should I just leave you alone for a while?”
“Can you come in and not talk?”
“Sure,” Owen agreed, crossing the room to me. “May I sit by you, or no?”
I patted the space beside me.
He flopped down, and we sat in silence, staring out at the water and the cliff across from the one the house was on.
After several minutes, I turned to him. “I came out to my father when I was sixteen.”
“Your mother had already passed, right?”
“Yeah, I…missed her more than usual that day.”
“I’m sure,” he said softly. “Go on.”
“Well, I was helping him fix the tractor, and he said it was okay if it was men instead of women for me as long as I was always the one giving.”
He nodded.
“As long as I was still a man, he could still call me son.”
“I see.”
“It’s a vulnerable position to be in for anyone who takes another person into their body. It has to be done with trust and reverence.”
“I agree.”
“The few times I’ve trusted someone else…afterward it was either nothing—they didn’t get what it meant to me—or it was supposed to be my turn to reciprocate and give them what they wanted.”
Owen was quiet, waiting.
“And always, always, in the back of my head…”
“You heard your father’s voice.”
“Yes,” I said under my breath.
“So to prove to him, and then to the memory of him, that you’re a man, to make up for this need in you, you went ahead and became a super soldier and then a super spy.”
“That’s right.”
He sighed and then moved into my lap, facing me, and instinctively, I took hold of his hips as he gently, slowly pushed me down onto the bed. Hovering over me, hands down beside my head on either side, he was grinning almost evilly.
“What you do in bed has shit to do with what you do out of it,” he reminded me. “And I know you know that in your head, but I need you to get your heart and soul on board.”
“Owen, you—”
“I want to kiss you, but I want that to be okay. I don’t want to push, and I’m afraid I am, but I’m also terrified that if I let this go, if I leave you right now, I might not have another shot.” He took a breath. “We’re finally talking, but I’ll go if you want.”
Heartbeats of time passed by as I decided. Then, reaching up, I put my hands on either side of his neck and eased him down, lifting myself at the same time. His lips met mine, and they fit perfectly together, the press before his tongue was there, sliding in, and I opened for him because it was all I wanted to do.
The whimper from him was a surprise, as was the heat flaring between us. I slipped one hand around his nape and slid the other down his side to his hip. Both needed to anchor him to me so he couldn’t move.
His head tipped so his tongue could delve deeper, taste more of me, and his lips moved over mine, tenderly but firmly. When his chest rested against my own, I realized he was lying on top of me, the kiss never breaking, and I shivered with the feel of him.
When he lifted up a bit, still kissing me, I let him move, not holding on so tight, allowing him to push against me, and I could feel his cock through his shorts, pressing into my thigh. Instinctively, I reached for his length, my hand sliding from his hip to his groin, squeezing him through the thin material.
“Fuck,” he moaned, pushing my T-shirt up, sliding it over my too-hot skin, his hands on me a revelation. Everywhere he touched felt like a brand.