Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“You sure you want to do this?” I ask, because now I’m not so certain. He went from undressing me with his eyes to avoiding looking at me at all. “We don’t have to—”
He spins on his heel and pushes me against the wall of the building, blanketing my body with his. Part of me wonders if I should be worried about the erratic move and how fast he’s able to pin me down, but when I put my hands on his chest to push him away, he melts into my touch. He’s an inch or two taller than me, so he stares down at me as he says, “I want to.” The rawness of his voice makes any doubt disappear.
“Full disclosure? This is a hook-up. I can’t offer any more than that.” I decide to be straight up with him, because if he’s not okay with this, I’d rather he bolted now.
“I’m good with hook-ups. I prefer them. I think my longest relationship was two months. Anders doesn’t do forever.”
“Does Anders often refer to himself in third person?” I ask.
“Sometimes. He can be a real douche.”
“Good to know.” I grip his shirt and pull him closer so our mouths are mere centimetres apart. I’ll make him be the one to close the gap. I’m usually not into games or struggling for dominance—I like to give and take—but right now, I think he needs to be the one to take the lead. He was confident in agreeing to come home with me, but that fell away inch by inch with every step he took towards my apartment. It makes me wonder how many casual hook-ups he’s had. If I had to guess, I’d say not many.
For a minute, I think he’s going to resist, but then his mouth comes down on mine, strong and commanding.
His beard is softer against my mouth than I anticipated. He groans as he opens for me, and the sound goes straight to my cock. God, I need this. I didn’t realise how much until right now. His tongue swirls with mine until I can’t take it anymore.
“Apartment,” I murmur.
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t stop kissing me.
I pull him against me and rock my hips, pushing my erection into him. “Apartment,” I say again.
His mouth tears away from mine as he laces our fingers together. “Hurry.”
Hand in hand, and in record time, we enter my building and climb the steps to the second floor.
I fumble with the keys as Anders kisses the back of my neck and his cock presses against my ass. When I manage to get the stupid door open, we stumble inside. He kicks the door shut with his foot as I spin and attack his mouth while walking backwards.
I grunt. This guy can kiss.
We bump into the kitchen island, so I wrap my arm around him and move us towards my bedroom, all the while our mouths not leaving one another.
His tongue is a mixture of domineering and exploring, while his lips and teeth are teasing. He goes from his tongue tangling with mine to his teeth grazing my lower lip.
My apartment is an open floor plan; the only thing separating my kitchen from my living room and bedroom is a mosaic glass feature wall.
We don’t make it to my bedroom. I pull away from Anders and reach for the hem of my sweater to take it off. He watches intently as my hands move to the buttons of my shirt. “Shirt off,” I order.
He pulls his hoodie and T-shirt off in one go. My eyes roam over his hard torso, his abs, and up to his shoulder where a black tribal tattoo covers his entire right pec and part of his arm.
“You really don’t look like an accountant.”
“I don’t like stereotypes, so I make sure I don’t act or look like one.” Reaching forward, he grabs my belt to bring me closer.
“Isn’t having casual sex with someone you don’t know a stereotype?”
Anders shrugs. “But it’s the fun type.”
“I love loopholes.”
Our mouths find each other once more, and he backs me up to the glass partition, pushing me against it.
His hands undo my belt and pants, shoving them—along with my boxer briefs—down my thighs.
When his fingers wrap around my aching cock, I let out a shuddery breath.
“It’s been so long for me, I’m going to blow in like a minute, but I promise I have at least another round, if not two, in me,” I say.
His hand freezes on my cock for the briefest of moments as he eyes me. “How long has it been?”
“How long has it been for you?” I throw back.
“Answer at the same time? One, two … three.”
We both say, “Six months” and then smile.
“We have all night,” I say. “Let’s just get this first one out of the way.”
“How is a romantic guy like you still single?” His hand slowly picks up speed again, and I’m thankful his quip is rhetorical. Don’t really want to open that can of worms mid-handjob.