Thirst Trap (Men of Summer #4) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Men of Summer Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 57(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
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He bows his back, presenting his deliciously firm ass like an offering.

Oh, yes.

I will take that offering.

I will take his ass.

I kick off my shoes and unbutton my shirt, then throw it on the couch and grab a condom from the coffee table.

“You were confident about tonight,” Gunnar says, mischief in his tone.

“I planned,” I reply as I grab the lube. “I planned every dirty thing I wanted to do to you.”

Then I move behind him, coat my fingers, slide them down the crack of his ass, and I tease at the hole.

One touch. And he’s shuddering.

“Did you plan this?” he asks, and he’s almost gasping, and it’s so goddamn sexy.

“I did. I planned it all for you,” I say, low and smoky as I work him open. “Look at how eager you are for my dick.”

He shivers. “Want you so badly.”

Lust runs rampant in my cells as I get him ready. “Tell me how you like it. Tell me what you’re into,” I say, as I slide another finger inside him.

He moans like an animal, pushing back against my fingers.

“I want you to be rough with me. Just fuck me hard, Rafe.” He pauses, leans back, meets my gaze. “Don’t go easy on me.”

Praise be.

“I promise I won’t.”

I stand, shove my pants and underwear down, kick them off, then cover him with my body, whispering in his ear, “I want to give you everything you want. I want to make everything so good for you.”

“You do,” he whispers, sounding surprisingly vulnerable for what this is. A scorching-hot fuck.

But I suspect we both know that there might be more here. We both feel it. We’re both the same kind of man.

The kind who leads with the physical, because it drives the connection, fuels our wants and needs beyond the bedroom. I’m confident I can give him what he wants and I hope he knows he can do the same for me.

Because I want someone who asks for pleasure. Someone who isn’t afraid to take it. Someone who wants to be taken apart.

I roll on the condom, coat my sheathed cock in lube, then I spread his cheeks, slap the head of my dick against him. “You want me to wreck you, Gunnar?”

He nods, pants. “Yes. Take me all the fuck apart.”

Well, that’s clear. I rub the crown against him, then push in. Just an inch at first, and holy fuck. My eyes squeeze shut at the tight, hot feel of him.

“More. I want more of you. All of you,” Gunnar demands. “And don’t go easy on me.”

Those words ring in my ears.

They’re a command. A goddamn order.

One I will follow as I give the man what he wants.

I slide all the way in, filling him to the hilt. Bottoming out inside the tight channel of his ass. He squeezes me, and electricity flows through my veins. Pleasure bursts inside my body. Heat envelops me as I pump and thrust.

“Harder.”

I heed the call, driving deeper.

“More. Rougher.”

My God, he’s as hungry for me as I am for him. I rise, gripping his hips hard, snapping mine as I pick up the pace, fucking him in a white-hot blur. I drive in deep and rough, fucking him just the way he wants. He reaches down, grabs his shaft, strokes hard.

But that’s mine.

“I get you off. I make you come,” I growl.

He lifts his head back, roars like an animal. “Then do it now. Do it fucking now.”

I grip his shaft, and my fist flies up and down his length. Everything is incredible—mind-bendingly good as I ride him hard, take him deep, and bring him to the edge of pleasure.

“Fuuuuuck that’s so good,” Gunnar cries out.

And with one more tight grip of my fist on his shaft, I take him over the edge. He shoots in my hand, groaning and moaning. “Yes. Fucking yes.”

Seconds later, I join him, pleasure blasting through all my cells as I climax and ecstasy blurs the world.

7

Gunnar

* * *

Sex like that requires a shower.

Rafe takes me into his palatial bathroom, guiding me in my climax-drunk state to a huge shower stall, and I still feel like I can’t stand. “This is exactly how I want to feel after a game,” I say, all gravelly and blissed out.

“I hope you don’t normally feel this way after a baseball game though,” he says, and he sounds a little jealous.

“Rafe, do you want me to tell you you’re special?” I tease as he turns on the water.

His eyes are surprisingly vulnerable. “Honestly?”

I straighten, responding in kind. “Yeah. Honestly.”

“Honestly I hope you don’t do this after every game,” he says bluntly, but with more emotion than I’ve heard from him before.

“Are you sex shaming me if I do?” I counter.

He shakes his head as the water streams down from the rainfall showerhead above us. “No. I’m honestly not. I’m opening myself to you.” Rafe lifts one hand through the steam, touches my cheek. “I know I’ve only spent a night with you. But I want you again. You’re consuming, Gunnar. You’re fantastic. I don’t want anyone else to make you feel like this after a game or at any other time. And I want to have more of you.”


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