Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Was I that easy to read?”
“I told you, I’m good at studying,” he says playfully. “But even if I wasn’t, I think I’d have to be pretty oblivious not to have caught on to your swoony mood.”
“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, since you spent all that money at the auction.”
“I didn’t do that to put you in a weird spot. I genuinely wanted to give that money to a good cause, while also backing a really cool guy I’ve known since high school.”
“Thank you, Ash.”
I kind of wish Atlas were here to see how cool Ash is. I’m sure he doesn’t actually have any ill will toward the guy, but he’d get why Ash is so special.
“I didn’t even want a date necessarily,” Ash adds. “Wouldn’t have minded getting your dick in me a couple of times at least.”
“Ooh, Pervy Ash!”
He chuckles. “To be honest, in high school, when you would come over to go to the pool with Colin and his friends, I had these dirty fantasies about what we could do in Dad’s toolshed.”
“That would have been awkward if Colin walked in…”
“Maybe we could have put on a show for him.”
We share a laugh, and I’m glad he’s totally cool because I like spending time with him and Colin.
When the bread arrives, we dig in, and I’m feeling a lot better knowing Ash isn’t expecting anything. But all I can think is that I’m eager to get back to Atlas to tell him how it went.
Ash tells me all about his conference, and we catch up about life stuff. After I finish up, I stop by my place, change, run through the shower, brush my teeth. Then I head on over to meet up with A.
His hands are even greedier than they were before I met with Ash, and we have a good flip-fuck session before we’re lying under the covers.
I’m sated, in a daze, when Atlas says, “You’re doing that thing again.”
I wasn’t even thinking, but I’m tracing my name in that same spot.
“I know you’re spelling your name there,” he says.
Fuck me.
“Do you want to mark it in some cum?” he teases, and my cheeks warm. After everything we’ve fucking done, why am I fucking blushing?
“What is it?” he asks. I must’ve hesitated too long because he says, “Come on, T. Be honest.”
I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help myself with him. “Before I tell you, I want to say that it’s just a fantasy. I don’t want you to think I actually want this or would expect this.”
“I like where this is going…”
“I just like the idea of you having a tattoo of my name. Right here. Like this exact spot.”
“Really?” he sounds more intrigued than I would’ve guessed, which makes it feel less wrong.
“Yeah. I like that. A. Lot.”
“So you want to brand me?”
The word brand alarms me. “No, not like really. But…yes?”
He smirks mischievously. “Naughty boy,” he whispers.
“In this fantasy, I’d want you to brand me too. I was wondering where you might want your name on me. Like if you could pick anywhere on my body?”
His gaze drifts, as though he’s seriously considering it, not just thinking that my idea is this wild, ridiculous…or worse, this sick thing. “I’ll think on it,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind a stamp across your forehead.”
I laugh. “I totally called that.”
“You did not.”
“I did. I know you better than you think.”
His smile expands, as though that pleases him, and I’m glad it does.
He rolls toward me and runs the backs of his fingers along my arm, trailing down to my hand, then moves on to my abs before making a route up to the ridge between my pecs. “So many pretty places to brand my pretty man.”
I love that he called me his pretty man.
“I am your pretty man.”
His gaze meets mine, and I hope he can tell how serious I am when I say that. When he finally looks away, he says, “It’s funny. I thought you might confess something else to me.”
“What?”
“Like why my shirt is in your nightstand. You think I haven’t noticed it the past few times I’ve been over and you’ve grabbed lube?”
Considering what we were doing when he was over, I never figured he would’ve gotten a good look at it.
My cheeks are warm again…
“You left it at the shop,” I explain.
“So you put it with your condoms and lube?”
“I…I…” Fuck, he has a way of getting me flustered.
He rests his hand on my face and strokes his thumb across my cheek. “T, why do you have my shirt in your nightstand?”
Be honest.
“It smells like you,” I confess.
He beams, like hearing that makes him proud. He moves close. “That’s what I wanted to hear, my sexy little creeper,” he whispers against my lips before offering a kiss, his mouth assuring me that knowing these things about me changes nothing between us.