Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Whitney stared at him with wide eyes and pursed lips. Randy looked confused as hell, gaping at him like he’d grown a third arm from the center of his chest. He’d even stopped chowing down on his hotdog, which proved how shocking Tate’s tirade had been.
“What the fuck?” Daryl said around a mouthful of half-chewed hotdog. “That’s what I am doing. I’m letting him live. Hell, I ain’t even tried to run him out of town, and I heard a cocksucker was opening a dance studio before any of you. That’s fucking growth.”
Tate pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you not call him that? No one calls you a pussy eater.”
Daryl grinned. “But they could, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”
Randy snorted. “He’d think it was a compliment.”
“Damn straight.” Daryl laughed, then focused back on Tate. “Why you always sticking up for him over us? You better be careful, or people will think you’re one of ’em.”
“Maybe he’s just a more evolved person than you,” Whitney said, arching an eyebrow at Daryl. She’d never been his biggest fan. Even as teens, they were like oil and water, even though Tate was pretty sure they’d hooked up a few times before she and Randy became permanent.
“Ain’t about being evolved. ‘Sabout right and wrong. But, like I said, I’m letting him live his life. I haven’t bothered him none.”
“Hmm.” Whitney cocked her head. “What if it was Randy?”
“The fuck?” Randy shouted.
“Whatcha mean?” Daryl asked.
“What if you found out tomorrow Randy was banging a dude? Shut up, Randy, and let him answer.”
Randy grumbled but kept it muted.
“Well, that’s easy. I’d beat the fucking gay out of him.”
Tate stopped breathing.
“For real? Be serious,” Whitney said.
“I am fucking serious. That’s what you gotta do. Make a negative association.”
“Oh.” Randy laughed. “Look who’s all smart now.”
“Fuck off. It’s fucking science. You beat ’em bloody, then when he thinks about dick, he remembers the pain and don’t want it no more.”
Christ.
Tate shot to his feet, drawing shocked gazes from the other three. “I can’t listen to this bullshit.” He tossed the rest of his hotdog into the fire and stormed off without another word.
He reached his trailer as his mother was leaving with a man on her arm. Jim Bob from the fucking gas station. He had half a dozen kids with as many women and at least three arrests on his record, most for knocking his women around.
“Hi, baby,” his mom said, already slurring her words. It would be a late night for her if she even came home.
Tate ignored them and stormed up the three steps into the trailer. He didn’t bother turning sideways to fit down the hallway to his room, instead letting the faux wood panels scrape the side of his arms. The pain did little to distract from his fury. When he reached his room, he slammed the door, crawled onto his bed, and shoved his pillow in his mouth.
He screamed until his throat ached, then punched his mattress until his knuckles burned.
Fuck his life.
Fuck his family.
Fuck it all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE TEXT MESSAGE Tate woke to had him grinning like a satisfied fool before he even took a sip of coffee. And that’s because he spent his first fifteen minutes awake, jerking his cock until he came all over his stomach while staring at the picture from Liam.
I resisted as long as I could.
The message came after Tate had exhausted himself, beating his mattress half to death, then passed out, but the photo accompanying those words was what had him hard and sweating within seconds of waking up.
A full-body shot of the dancer standing in a complicated pose with one leg straight up by his ear and an arm stretched up, holding his foot—fully naked. The flexibility boggled Tate’s mind as he couldn’t touch his damn toes. But what sent the picture over the top was the erect cock reaching for him and the heavy sac hanging down, begging for his mouth.
Instant erection.
The fucking tease.
Tate wasted no time getting to work on his dick, and after his cum splashed up his torso, he did something he’d never imagined he’d do in his lifetime. He snapped a photo and sent it back to Liam.
Three seconds later, he’d gotten a reply.
Come over tonight. My ass misses you.
Hot damn.
Who knew flirting could be so damn fun. He’d done it with girls in the past to keep up the façade of being straight, but it had always been a chore, and the banter nearly impossible to drum up. With Liam, it came naturally. He wanted the man needy and as obsessed as he was. It was easy to tease and play with such sexy inspiration.
Come early, and I’ll order dinner.
Then there was that. He should absolutely decline and keep this to fucking only, but he enjoyed spending time with Liam as much as he loved his dick in the guy’s ass. Or mouth. Or even his hand. Liam was funny and chill, and he didn’t judge anything Tate told him, which was so opposite to everyone else he knew. It was refreshing, and being in his presence felt so damn good he couldn’t stay away. After the shit he had to hear Randy and Daryl spouting last night, he could use a dose of Liam’s positivity.