Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“I know, so have I.” I leaned in and kissed his inner thigh, loving how the hair on his legs felt against my lips.
“What happened?” His question sounded simple enough, but the answer was real fuckin’ complicated.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I won’t,” he said, gasping as I took him in my mouth, swallowing him down to the base. If deep-throating were an Olympic sport, I would have for sure won the gold about sixty-nine times over. Sponsorships would have been through the roof. “Just do it” would have taken on a whole other meaning.
Scott grabbed the back of my head. It drove me even more wild, swallowing and gobbling like it was a free buffet. The bed shifted as Penelope moved to the chair, her hands gliding up and down her own body, her eyes half-lidded with passion.
Ever since we had started this arrangement, she always liked sitting back and watching. I asked a few different times if I could help get her off, but she said her fingers and our sweaty cocks rubbing together was all she needed.
Yeah. My life wasn’t exactly black and white, and that was exactly how I wanted it.
“Oh, Rex, that’s it. Wow, holy shit.” Scott’s eyes rolled back. I moved onto the bed, the memory foam mattress barely shifting under our combined weight.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy,” Scott said, looking up at me with wide green eyes. He licked his lips and leaned up, his hands rubbing my body, squeezing and kneading and massaging. “I love how much of a bear you are.” The way Scott’s cock leaked proved he wasn’t lying.
I let him rub me up and down, worshiping the curves and hair and chest.
I fucking loved it. Years ago, this would have made me self-conscious about a hundred times over. There’d been a long period in my life when my weight had become my biggest issue. Something I obsessed over and was constantly bullied over, constantly reminded about. The snide comments only enforced the view I’d see whenever I looked in the mirror.
Not anymore. These days, I embraced my bear-ness.
Some might say overweight, others would say fluffy, but of the people I really cared about, most would say fucking perfect. It took me a second to figure out what being a bear meant, considering I was so deep in the closet I might as well have turned into a coat hanger.
Being a bear means being a bigger man with a chest of curly hair and ample amount of options to grab during sex.
Being a bear does not mean having the barest layer of fat, which was something I recently heard that made me roll my eyes back into the dawn of time.
Tonight, Scott was in the “fucking perfect” camp, rubbing my body with a hunger in his gaze. He rubbed and sucked and kissed and licked. His breath felt warm against my stomach as he nibbled on me, gyrating his hips onto the bed, pushing my legs further apart. I throbbed against his chest, his heartbeat matching the pulse of my cock.
“Fuck,” I hissed, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. Penelope was sitting on the leather chair against the window, her legs open and her eyes drinking us up, the way she bit her lip, revealing just how much pleasure coursed through her.
The lights of the city were bright enough to shine into the dark room, one hundred and one stories above the ground. This was one of the tallest buildings in the city, and I currently lived in the penthouse next door. Francisco was a wild neighbor to have, that was for sure. An heir to some oil fortune and an addict to lavish parties dripping wall to wall with supermodels of all genders, it really helped justify the crazy amount of rent I paid.
A red light stuck out from the sea of blinking, artificial stars. It seemed to be floating. Like a UFO or something. It blinked on and off. It reminded me of something…
Wait a fucking second.
I looked to the opposite side of the room, at a bookshelf that took up an entire wall. Filled with random bullshit, it would have been real easy to miss the blinking red light.
I was looking for it, though.
And I found it.
“What the fuck is that?” I pushed Scott off me, his lips leaving a wet circle on my neck.
Scott and Penelope both followed my gaze. “What’s what?” Penelope asked.
“That blinking red light. Between the globe and the lockbox.”
I stood, my face flushing with blood. Closer inspection wasn’t needed, but still, I had to see it for myself.
Had to know how truly fucked things were.
Behind the antique globe and scratched-up bronze lockbox was a tiny camera, the blinking light coming from above the lens. Everything had been recorded. Everything.
I snatched the camera off the shelf, the globe dropping to the floor and breaking in half. The camera flew through the air, cracking against the window. It fell to the floor in pieces. Penelope and Scott both looked shocked, their faces turning paper pale, their jaws dropping in unison.