Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He leans forward again and takes his cock into his hand, stroking. There’s a warm sensation on my stomach, and I think he might be coming, but as I look, it’s a little clear fluid. Just some precum.
With his eyes still sealed shut, he rides, his movements seeming as beyond his control as my own. We’re all thrusts and fury, the intensity climbing.
The mattress springs squeak violently. Must be an old bed, like a lot of stuff in this place.
The pressure in my balls has a bite to it as my body decides I need release and fast.
“I think I’m gonna come,” I warn him.
“It’s okay. Come like this.”
There’s something gentle in his tone, so different from the man I’m used to seeing, and his invitation is too much for me. A wave of heat suffuses my face as the pressure becomes unbearable, and then I’m shooting inside him.
His ass grips my shaft before he calls out, “Fuck, yeah. Fuck…” And he sprays across my stomach, his cum settling around my navel as his body twitches above me, his ass still moving like his body wants to keep enjoying the sensation of my cock inside him.
He leans forward, opens his eyes, and the first expression he makes is unsettling. Like he’s disappointed. I figure it doesn’t have to do with me, but this other person.
Is he disappointed I’m not him?
He dismounts, removing my condom for me and taking it with him into the en suite bathroom. I wipe the sweat off my brow and take deep breaths as I recover, and he returns to the bed, eyeing me uneasily.
For a guy who seemed to be enjoying himself, he looks ashamed. Or like he regrets what we did. Maybe after the fuck, the reality of it all struck him. The fucked-up thing his brother wanted me to do.
I roll off the mattress. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
He doesn’t respond, so I figure that’s what he wants too.
I slide into my boxers and pants and toss on my shirt, and as he guides me to the door, I spin back around. “Thank you, Ryan.”
I hope he knows I mean it. He could have easily told me to fuck off when he found out what I needed. He would have had every right, but it means so much to me that he gave enough shits to make sure I ended up with this money.
Ryan nods, not making eye contact.
“Thank you,” I say again. “I actually…really enjoyed that. Really.”
I don’t know how else to get it across to him, but his expression twists up, and then he shakes his head. “Good night, Jonas.”
“Night, Ryan.”
7
SIMON
Jonas enters my office and approaches.
“Good morning,” I say. “Please. Take a seat.”
As he settles in the chair in front of my desk, I can’t fight the grin on my face. It wasn’t easy to watch them fuck, but it was deeply satisfying. Not because I wanted to see, but because I knew it wouldn’t take long for Jonas to get in his bed. That Ryan wouldn’t be able to resist someone who reminded him of Kieran. Despite all his protests, all his fucking lies, I knew what Ryan wanted in his heart.
The bastard. The liar.
“I’m very pleased with your work,” I tell Jonas.
His eyes widen. “So you know I did the job?”
“Yes, and I guess that issue we discussed wasn’t too much of a problem.” During my initial proposal, Jonas was worried that being straight, he might have a problem performing. Clearly, that hadn’t been an issue. I’d given him a sildenafil to help out, but he doesn’t seem like a good enough actor to have pulled off last night without there being more to him than a straight man.
“No, it went fine,” is all he says.
Well, you’re not getting away that easily, Jonas.
“Fine?”
I saw my brother’s face as he took his cock. I saw Jonas’s fucking face, how he was enjoying his job. Maybe he’s in denial about something, but that’s really none of my business.
“So how was it?” I know what it fucking looked like, but I want to know what it was like when he was balls-deep in Ryan. I want to know if he enjoyed his tight hole. If he liked the rhythm he created as he rode him. I want to know fucking everything.
He hesitates, then says, “I’m sorry. What are you asking for?”
“Details, Jonas. I want to hear what happened. How it came about. What you felt intrigued him about you. What you said that made him want to fuck you. Think of it as a final report.” A very thorough report that can give me some insight into my big brother’s fucked-up head.
Jonas’s gaze searches around—why does he have to think about it? He knows what happened between them. There’s something suspicious about how he’s acting.