Page 108 of Shadowman
His hands ghost up my waist, gliding gently until those shapely fingers are wrapped around my ribcage. And I hum, because it feelsgood. Eyes tumbling over him, I watch his chest rise and fall, pale skin flushed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
He wants it, that much is fucking clear.Flirting my ass…
I think he’d let me in him in a heartbeat.
And now I’m considering it… The things I could do with this stranger that would get me all the way off.
Push him onto his knees and pump my cock down that pretty throat…
Bend him over and fuck him rough. Bust my nut in there, nice anddeep…
It’s just sex, right? Like feeding your body when it’s hungry…
No strings. No attachments.
Nourishment… Much-needed.
Reaching up, my hand is shaking a little as I curl my fingers around his neck and bring him to me. “You wanna make me feel good…?” I rasp into his waiting mouth.
He nods fast. “Anythingyou want to feel, hot boy. I’ll make it happen.”
My mind is racing, immediately overflowing with wild images and torrid fantasies.
But before I can even think of acting on any of them, footsteps clomp from around the corner, that motherfucker’s voice slicing into the steamy hot tension, “62, your ass is fucking grass if you don’t get out here right the hell now!”
Goddamn Linetti. Fucking cockblock.
Shoving Trevel off me, I clear my throat and blink hard, reacquainting myself with reality. He hums out of frustration, and I peek at him.
“That’s a good look on you,” I mumble, eyes lingering on his bloody lip.
“That’s even better,” he purrs, nodding below my waist.
Peering down, I frown at my visible erection, adjusting to hide it in my waistband.
Trevel laughs, and I scowl away my own amusement.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“Sure thing…Raph.”
“Trevel! Great to see you. Have a seat, my dear.”
Eyeing the man cautiously, I take a seat opposite him at his desk. Large, oak, and quite ornate. But what’s really caught my attention is the massive bay window behind him.
“Wow… That’s quite the view,” I breathe out, admiring the ocean’s waves rippling below us. “I didn’t know this building had windows.”
“Oh, it really doesn’t,” Manuel Blanco says with a smirk. Then he stands, wandering over to what looks like a lavish little minibar. “Would you care for something to drink? Pellegrino? Coconut water?”
“I don’t suppose you have any bourbon in there?” I lift a brow, and he cocks his head admonishingly.
“Now, Trevel… You’ve been given an opportunity to start fresh here, no substances. Don’t squander it.”
I swear, he sounds like a father. It’s interesting, being that I never had parents who, well… gave a rat’s tiny bollocks. So as much as I feel like a petulant teenager right now, I’m unable to disregard the warm and fuzzies in the pit of my stomach from him actually caring. Or at least pretending to.
Still more than I got from the wankers who made me.
I sigh. “Pellegrino is perfect, thank you.”
