Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Rhys reached down to fist the base of Emerson’s cock. “Tell me what you want. You’re not always good at looking after your own needs.”
Emerson gasped and stared at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…you said that to me once before.” His heart positively ached as he was reminded of their very first kiss in the kitchen.
“Yeah? Something else I can’t remember?”
Emerson tenderly kissed his lips instead of answering. He didn’t want anything to turn sour between them, and he suddenly felt like he was on borrowed time.
Kissing along his jawline, Rhys made his way to Emerson’s ear. “Let me make you feel good.”
“Fuck.” Emerson groaned. “Yeah, I want that.”
Rhys nudged Emerson to sit on the edge of the bed, then carefully got down on his knees before him, and what a sight to behold with his cock red-tipped and leaking. “I can stop if it’s too much.” Rhys pressed open his thighs and settled between his legs. “But I can’t fucking wait to taste you.”
Emerson already knew that whatever Rhys did would blow his mind, and he’d take anything Rhys had to offer. Not only because he had feelings for him, but because he trusted him with his life—even if his heart wasn’t quite so secure yet and had been through enough. Emerson threaded his fingers through his dark waves, savoring the feel of his expectant breaths against his thighs and the moan he bit back as he stared at his cock. That alone made him feel like he was on top of the fucking world. It had been so long since he’d felt a mouth on him, since he’d been touched by a lover, and even those memories would pale in comparison.
23
Rhys
“Wait. Your ribs.” Emerson’s guilt was rearing its ugly head, and Rhys needed to distract him, pronto.
“Are you kidding me right now?” He clutched his thighs, and Emerson trembled. “Nothing’s gonna stop me from sucking you off.”
Holy fuck, Emerson was sitting naked in front of him, his cock straining against his stomach, and Rhys couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted anyone more.
You’ve said that to me once before.
Rhys almost told Emerson that he knew about their pre-accident kiss. But if they had that discussion now, it might ruin everything. He knew Emerson, could almost picture him retreating into his protective shell, like those caterpillars in their chrysalises, broken down into his most basic form while regarding the world through filtered lenses.
Whereas now he was flayed open before him, insecurities vanished, raw emotion on his face. He’d confidently stepped inside the shower, owning his sexuality, his desires; watching him go after what he wanted was fucking stunning.
Rhys started at his knee, wanting to savor his soft skin and musky smell with an overlay of vanilla from the shower. He licked up his thigh to his hip bone, then across his abdomen to the other side as Emerson fidgeted and clutched the sheets. He avoided his shaft, which was stiff as a tree trunk, thick as one too, and as he feathered his lips down to Emerson’s sac, he imagined what it might be like to have that gorgeous cock stuffed inside him.
“Rhys,” he ground out as Rhys bathed each of his balls with his tongue. Emerson looked ruined, his fingers now stabbing through Rhys’s hair, his legs splayed wide, his eyes wild, untamed.
Rhys’s hand settled on the base of his shaft before he leaned in to bury his nose in the red patch of hair at his groin. So fucking sexy. He swiped his tongue along the slit, savoring the burst of flavor on his taste buds.
“I dunno what you’re doing to me.” Emerson’s voice was hoarse, wrecked, reminding Rhys how huge this was for him. And special for Rhys—being allowed to touch him like this.
“Same thing you’re doing to me,” he replied around a thick throat, and he meant it. His heart was going crazy-wild for this man. For his dearest friend. And he realized he wanted this with him. Wanted it all. If Emerson would have him.
“Fuck.” Emerson bent his head back and moaned as Rhys hollowed his cheeks and took him to the back of his throat, making sure to work his tongue along the length and let him feel just the barest scrape of his teeth for added sensation.
“So good.” He canted his hips forward and threaded his fingers through Rhys’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make his scalp smart. And he fucking loved it. It was a glimpse of what Emerson might be like if he only let go more often.
“Oh God.” When he arched his back, Rhys knew he was a goner. He doubled down as Emerson cried out, bursts of salty-sweet come hitting the roof of his mouth as he spurted down his throat. He pulled off and lapped at the final bursts from his slit as Emerson’s legs went limp and he sank to the sheets.