Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Tank stroked Clover’s cock once. Twice. Faster. Seconds later, Clover came with a sharp cry, his body shivering, wild, completely out of control. Clover would have been begging Tank for a fuck even without their arrangement, but Tank didn’t need to know that.
What the fuck was this demon of a man?
Clover sniffed, his head still in the orbit.
“Good,” Tank rasped, stroking Clover’s hair and moving to kneel by him instead of above him. With a smile, Tank licked the fresh cum off his hand. “You taste as delicious as you look. I’ll be fucking you all the way to New York.”
Yes, please.
Chapter 4 - Clover
After the insane fuck with Tank, Clover hadn’t expected much in terms of affection, so it was surreal to have this massive man take his time washing Clover’s hair in the shower. Tank spared him no attention, running his hands up and down Clover’s legs, his ass, and keeping him close as rivulets of warm water sped down their bodies. The tenderness was so unexpected Clover went with the flow, even though he wasn’t accustomed to being held like this. Exhaustion was his second name, and he settled with his head on Tank’s pec for comfort.
The past two days had been a whirlwind of near-constant stress, and despite having slept through much of it, his body still remembered the hardships of the long journey and the treatment that left bruises on his fair skin. From the moment he’d opened his eyes, Clover had been forced to deal with the most primal of fears—the one for his life—and while he’d experienced it many times before, it had always been brief moments, not hours.
Being stuck wondering whether he’d end up as an exotic sex slave, someone’s meal, or a plaything for a gore lover, had taken their toll on his mental energy. Now though, with Tank and the others, he felt safe enough to let himself rest. The agreement he’d chosen to enter was sketchy as hell, and it meant he couldn’t continue doing as he pleased for now, but unlike Riggs or Jerry, those guys had no interest in harming him.
When Tank turned off the shower, Clover limped back into the room, dripping water all over the thick carpet.
“Anything else wrong with you other than that leg? Have they fed you?” Tank asked, approaching Clover with a towel. The thing was somewhat rough to the touch but soaked in the liquid so well Clover was dry after a couple of swipes.
Clover used the towel to get excess moisture out of his long locks, looking down at his injured foot. The cut he’d gotten trying to run off into the desert had opened up again. “It’s fine, I’m okay. Really.” He smiled at the man who’d turned out to be such a strange mix of brash and caring. If Clover was to stay around for longer, he’d need to find out much more about Tank and his crew. And not just about their dicks either. A pretty face and snug holes could only get a boy so far.
“Sit,” was all Tank said, and Clover followed the command without thinking, resting his naked behind on the crumpled sheets and watching his new protector scoot down by a duffel bag.
Clover had his glasses back on, and since the world was blurry without them, he hadn’t gotten a good enough look at Tank’s body during sex. Now he could study it in detail, from the firm calves to a back that was almost too wide and firm to be real. Tank was pure muscle under tan skin that was covered by a multitude of black tattoos, and while he could have broken Clover’s neck if he wished to get rid of a witness, the confidence with which he moved inspired trust in his abilities rather than fear.
Tank returned holding a soft white bag marked with a red cross. “Show me that foot.”
Clover hesitantly extended his foot into Tank’s hand when the man kneeled on the floor. “Why are you doing this?”
Tank didn’t need to help Clover with the foot or wash his hair to get a fuck out of their arrangement. They’d already established a deal, and Clover couldn’t expect anything beyond protection, especially now that Tank had already seen through his lies about the potential for money at the end of the road.
Tank frowned, but took out a bottle and sprayed a stinging substance over the cut. “What do you mean why? You’re hurt.”
Clover hissed at the pain and hugged himself. “You could have just passed me the kit.” He didn’t want to challenge Tank or sound ungrateful, but understanding what Tank was about could be key to ensuring his future safety.
The guy frowned at him in a way that suggested he didn’t consider Clover capable of a feat as complicated as dressing a cut. He only spoke once he focused on the foot again, wrapping it with a clean bandage. “If I do it myself, I’ll know it’s done correctly.”