Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
There was no mistaking it—Ross wanted him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Ross whispered in his ear, trailing kisses down his throat until he got to his chest. “All this soft, sweet skin.”
Jonah was panting for breath as Ross stood and pulled his pants off, staring down at him and licking his lips while he pressed against his straining cock.
“My sexy fucking teddy bear.”
Ross hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed his slacks and briefs down in one smooth motion, his cock springing free, thick and wet.
Jonah gaped at the thickness—it was much bigger than he remembered.
Ross climbed back over him, bracing one hand on the chaise and wrapping the other around both their cocks. Jonah bit his lip to keep from yelling as Ross pressed them tight together and began stroking with long, lazy pulls.
“Ross, oh my g—” he groaned, his hands trembling against Ross’s chest.
Ross kissed everywhere he could reach: his forehead, jaw, throat, as he murmured words of worship in his ear.
He emphasized each word with a lick or a kiss. “Sexy. Never letting you go again. Damn, your body drives me crazy. Got me wanting to come already.”
The friction was unbelievable, every stroke dragging him closer to the edge.
His cries mixed with Ross’s groans as they filled the conservatory. The scent of flowers blended with their sweat, with their sounds of pleasure.
Jonah pushed his hips higher, needing, as Ross bared down harder, grinding them together.
It didn’t take long because it’d been too long.
Jonah came undone first, sobbing his release against Ross’s neck, holding on as if he’d fall apart if he let go.
Ross followed right behind him, releasing a shuddering growl as he spilled onto Jonah’s belly and chest.
Jonah collapsed back against the cushions, breathing as if he’d tried to run a mile, every limb heavy but his heart impossibly light.
Bliss washed through him, a feeling he’d thought left when Ross did.
Ross slid off and folded him into his side, caressing his shoulder, while still kissing him.
“I missed these lips,” Ross whispered, easing his tongue back inside.
Jonah could lie there all morning and into the next night.
Then…his stomach rumbled loudly.
Of course.
His face flamed, but Ross just chuckled—not in a bullying way—but in that fun, good-natured teasing way he used to.
“Good. I’m starving too.” He rose just enough to clasp Jonah’s hand, lacing their fingers tight. “C’mon, Bear. Get dressed, we’re gonna raid Thorn’s fridge.”
Jonah let out a shaky laugh, tears mixing with his smile. For the first time in years, he believed it. With Ross at his side, he could do anything.
Jonah couldn’t stop grinning like a fool as he padded into the massive kitchen with Ross at his side. They’d both tugged their tuxedo shirts back on without bothering to button them fully, jackets forgotten somewhere in the conservatory, hair mussed from kissing.
Ross tugged him by the hand straight to the oversized stainless-steel fridge.
“Moment of truth,” he smiled, his voice still that velvety midwestern drawl that made Jonah weak.
Ross yanked the double doors open, and both of them laughed at what was inside: trays stacked with leftovers from the ball, carved prime rib, crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, towers of miniature pastries, cheeses in Ziplock bags, and a leafy green salad, and beside it, a huge bowl of fruit salad covered with cling wrap.
Jonah’s stomach rumbled loud enough to echo. He lowered his eyes and slowly backed away.
“Don’t you dare.” Ross held his hand out to him. “Get yourself back over here.”
When he was in reach, Ross turned him to face the refrigerator and wrapped his arms around his middle from behind.
Ross could just fit his long arms around his waist, but the way he was nipping and running the flat of his tongue down his neck, he couldn’t be bothered.
“What you wanna start with…? You pick,” Ross said, pressing his hardening cock against his ass.
Damn sure not that fuckin’ salad.
But just because Ross liked him the way he was, he would continue eating better and attending his regular training sessions.
But right now, he’d indulge. Otherwise, it wasn’t a proper midnight raid.
He plucked the platter of roasted chicken and set it on the marble counter while Ross grabbed a tray of what looked like baklava.
Jonah hesitated, still hardwired with old shame.
Growing up, food after dark had meant trouble. He’d hear the creak of a floorboard first before his father busted him and slammed his fist into his gut. He’d never quite shaken the fear of being caught eating.
Ross was already tearing a piece of the chicken from the bone, grinning like they were being naughty. Ross bit into the flaky pastry, then held it out. “C’mere, Bear. Taste this?”
Jonah’s pulse skipped as he leaned forward and took the other half of the puff, his tongue grazing the tip of Ross’s finger.
Ross’s gaze darkened as he watched him chew.
Soon, they were devouring everything in reach: thick slices of Brie, cold slices of roast beef dipped in horseradish, tiny fruit tarts that crumbled between their fingers.