The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
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“You do. God, you really fucking do.” His ass grips me so tight, squeezing my dick perfectly as I fill him.

My body pulses. My skin sizzles.

I dip my face to his. He wraps a hand around the back of my head, drags me to his mouth. Owen is ravenous with his lips. He can’t seem to get enough, and I am only too happy to smother him in kisses.

I ease out a few inches, but right before I plunge back in, he hauls me in for a deeper kiss. With our lips touching, I sink into him once more.

A current crackles between us, and my body buzzes everywhere. I am on the edge of the world as I kiss him and fuck him. I am high as he kisses me back and moves under me.

And together, we find a sensual rhythm. We’re not fast. We’re not wild. We are just . . . connected.

Every move of mine is matched by him. Every sweep of his lips on mine earns one in return. We fuck and we kiss like we know exactly how the other person likes it.

Or, really, like we’re discovering each other’s pleasure at the same damn time. Finding it, meeting it, exceeding it.

I take him in long, slow, passionate strokes, indulging in every single thrust.

Owen trembles under me, shudders running down his body. Every euphoric stroke sends me one step closer to ecstasy, one step nearer to the edge. I want to fly off it with him.

“Want to come with you,” I tell him as I roll my hips, then thrust into him.

Owen curls his palm around his cock, jerking it.

I shake my head. “Let me, please. Let me get you there.”

“Take me there,” he murmurs, letting go. I rise up to my knees, one hand on his thigh, the other on his gorgeous dick, and like that, I fuck him deep.

Passionately.

He’s beautiful beneath me, all carved muscles and openness, all need and hunger. I can see it written in his eyes, etched on his features.

When I drive into him, hitting his prostate, he unleashes a carnal groan.

A wild, needy yes, chased by my name.

It sounds like a desperate plea. For me. I crave it like air. “Say my name again,” I demand.

“River,” Owen groans as I jerk him harder, faster. His hands fly to his hair. Like he did before. Like he must do when he’s close.

“God, I’ve wanted this so much,” Owen moans. “Wanted you so much.”

As I shuttle my fist faster, he’s groaning and babbling, words like so good, and yes, and you, just you, and it’s erotic and insanely romantic at the same time.

And it’s exhilaratingly clear as the intensity of all my emotions barrels into me at once.

I’m fucking my best friend.

I’m fucking the man I’m falling for.

And I’m pretty sure this man is falling for me too.

Those blissful thoughts kaleidoscope through my brain as my fist flies over his hot, slick length.

Owen shudders, hips jerking, as he comes hard in my palm, and all over his stomach.

Electric pulses of pleasure surge in me. I’m close, so damn close.

“Come on me,” he begs.

I’ll give him anything he wants.

I pull out, rip off the condom, and pump my cock a few times till I’m coming on him with a savage groan and a string of yes, yes, yeses, then his name.

And it feels so right to stay like this.

Just like this.

Soon, the deliciously mind-numbing pleasure of my orgasm sinks me under into a brand-new land of rapture.

Into a new kind of falling.

One I don’t think I want to fall out of.

Especially when Owen reaches for me, and draws me in for a tender kiss that doesn’t feel like sex at all.

It feels like maybe, just maybe, this is the biggest risk of all.

I kiss him more to swallow up all the words as my body covers his.

The way our limbs tangle together feels more than right. It feels as good as spending the night in a cabin in the snow, under the stars, falling into each other.

18

OWEN

The most predictable thing about weather is that it’s wildly unpredictable.

Last time I checked my phone, my weather app said there’d be half a foot by morning. Skiers rejoiced. But as the sun introduces itself to me the next day in all its bright morning glory, I squint, trying to make sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Most of the white stuff is gone.

Are my eyes that bad?

Grabbing my glasses, I slide them on and I yawn, peering out the window.

Okay, there’s still some snow, but maybe only a couple inches. Most of it is melting. A pang tugs at my chest. I suppose a part of me was hoping for another snow day.

That would have been perfect timing. Right place, right time, right moment. To hole up in this chalet for longer still, curl up by the fire, and tell River I am in mad love with him. And then we could fuck and kiss and cuddle.


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