The Realist (The Vers Podcast #3) Read Online Riley Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Vers Podcast Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
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But now I had to tell him that his boyfriend was a loser…and, oh hey, could I stay with him longer? Assuming I could keep my job, which meant I’d have to go crawling back to Declan too. If he hadn’t hired anyone, I knew he would keep me, but he shouldn’t have to.

And all that made me think of Marcus again. I wanted to be with him. I didn’t want him to have to take care of me, and I knew he would feel like he did. I wasn’t sure how to handle that.

* * *

I called in at work, which made me feel even more like shit, but I knew I couldn’t be there. I just wanted Marcus, which was scary and confusing, especially since I felt bad needing him, putting my shit on his plate this way.

I’d just gotten out of the shower and was curled up on the couch, wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of underwear, when I heard the lock and the door opening. He wouldn’t be able to see me because the back of the couch was between us, but he would have seen my car in the driveway.

“Kai?” he called out, his voice like a warm blanket around me.

“Over here.” I sat up, fought to bury all those poor-me feelings that I really fucking hated and tried not to ever let myself feel.

Marcus had an open house today. He didn’t always go to those himself, but it was an important client and a very expensive house, so he’d wanted to handle it himself. He wore a pair of slacks and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was maybe the hottest look in existence, and all men should be forced to wear it.

“Are you sick?” He brushed the back of his hand against my forehead, which was such a caretaker thing and totally Marcus.

“No, but I want you.” I pushed up onto my knees and started unbuttoning his shirt. I wanted him to fuck me before I told him that his boyfriend was an immature slacker who could be out of a job soon.

Marcus frowned. “Not that you don’t look fine as fuck in my shirt, and I would die to get inside your ass, but what’s wrong?” He held my wrists, trying to stop me from finishing with his buttons.

“Nothing. I want to have sex with my boyfriend.” I stood up on the cushions and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my lips to his.

Marcus growled in return, holding my ass as I tangled my legs around his waist. He lifted me, walked around the couch, and sat down with me on his lap. When I tried to kiss him again, he pulled back. “What’s wrong, baby boy?”

I want to be good enough for you. I want to prove I want you and maybe need you, but because I love you and not for what you can do for me.

“I’ll tell you afterward, I promise, but right now my hole is really hungry for your cock.” I scooted back some, palming his thick erection and making him hiss. The look he gave me was conflicted, part desire and part worry, which just made me love him more. “Please, baby.”

Marcus’s stare turned smoldering, like he was fighting it but couldn’t contain his need for me, which I was still trying to wrap my head around.

He shoved his large hand down the back of my underwear, fingers sliding along my crease. “I’ll feed your hungry little hole, but afterward I won’t let you up until you talk to me.”

I grinned because how could I not? He was fucking incredible, and I was so damn lucky to have him. Why, out of all the men he could have, Marcus chose me still blew my mind.

His lips crashed down on mine, the last rein he had on his control finally snapping.

We kissed like we were starving for each other, like we couldn’t breathe unless our lips were attached.

Marcus pulled back just enough to rip my shirt over my head, and then his mouth possessed mine again. I worked the rest of the buttons on his shirt while his tongue ravaged me, my balls already so full, I could come any second.

His mouth trailed wet kisses down my neck, my chest, until he reached my pierced nipple, which he sucked, then dug into with his teeth. Sharp pain stung my pec before melting into pleasure, and my hand at the back of his head pulled him closer.

“Do you like that?” he asked. “Like it when I bite and suck on you?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” I liked everything he did to me.

Marcus did it again and again, marking me up, alternating between the suction of his mouth and the pressure of his teeth.


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