Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
He pauses, throws a look at me, and leaves, but I can’t stop smiling as I loop his scarf around my neck, inhaling him.
So I lied.
I understand enough French to know beau doesn’t mean “annoying.”
It means beautiful.
It means hot.
Preston looked me dead in the eye and said I was “terribly beautiful tonight,” and then tried to pass it off as an insult.
This idiot.
He has no idea how close he is to being mine.
17
MARCUS
Me
You’re ignoring me again.
Preston
Observation skills on point. Want a cookie?
Three weeks ago, in that alley, what did I tell you would happen if you don’t keep in touch?
About that. I decided it sounded like a threat after all, so it doesn’t count. Better luck next time. Now, shoo and stop annoying me.
Didn’t seem like I was annoying you when you came all over my fingers two days ago. Your cock was throbbing like crazy as you moaned my name.
I did NOT moan your name.
Yes, you did. You said ‘Marcus, deeper’ in that erotic gruff voice, remember? It made me fuck you harder with my fingers, and you took three of them like a champ.
Keep talking and I’ll stab you with a butter knife and feed you to my dogs slowly.
As much as I find your attempts to deflect with violent threats adorable, it’s not going to fly tonight. We need to talk.
No, thanks. I’d rather impale myself with a blunt sword seppuku style than go through the hassle.
Are you that scared of literally having a conversation with me?
Bitch, please. I’m not scared of anyone. Least of all you.
But you are, Preston. You’re terrified at the notion of spending any time with me if it doesn’t involve hockey, spanking you, or cornering you in that locker room and making you come. You immediately shut down as soon as you orgasm and still punch me whenever I try to touch you softly. You shot down my invitations to spend Christmas or New Year’s together, just because that means trying something outside the usual sexual frenzy you’re comfortable with. If that’s not being scared, I don’t know what is.
Are you psychoanalyzing me, because yikes. Not sure if you’re an amateur psychiatrist, but I’m refusing your services. I have enough doctors who give your feeble attempts a run for their money.
Do those doctors prescribe you those pills? What are they for?
Have you been going through my shit?
No, I saw them accidentally the other day. They had no label, so I’ve been wondering.
They’re crazy-people pills.
Be serious.
I am serious. Surely, you’ve heard of us. The crazy people whose heads tell them to kill and hurt others. The criminally insane who are considered a threat to society. Available on Netflix in the glorious true crime section.
What’s your diagnosis?
It’s called none of your fucking business.
Fine. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.
Stop acting so high and fucking mighty. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to? Fuck you, bitch. Get over yourself.
Do you want me to push? Is that it?
That’s not communication, Preston. Don’t be childish.
Guess what? I AM childish. And fuck you, asshole. Stop getting into my business just because I allow you to touch me. So what if I enjoy what happens in the locker room? Shocking news—I enjoy a LOT of things. Doesn’t make them special.
Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night.
Helps me sleep just fine. You, on the other hand, seem clingy. That new for you or just a side effect of whatever savior complex you have?
You were the clingy one the other day when you held on to me with all your might as I lifted you against the door.
Don’t confuse lust with charity.
Charity?
Yeah. You seem to be incapable of keeping your hands off of me, so I’m just going with the flow. Always had a soft spot for the unprivileged.
Liar. You don’t give a fuck about the unprivileged.
New hobby. It’s like picking up a stray dog. Makes me feel good at the moment, but it’s fleeting.
Did you just say fleeting?
Yes, fleeting. Know your place, Marcus. You’re just noise between pills.
In that case, let’s silence the noise.
What?
Since you’re being so benevolent by catering to my whims and allowing me to touch you, I’m happy to tell you I got my fill and will now move on to my next conquest. You won’t have to put up with this “charity case” anymore and can go back to the dull life you had before I came along. I can’t say you were a good sport, but it was fun while it lasted.
Did you just call ME a fucking conquest?
Would fling make you feel better? Surely, you’ve had plenty of those. What’s one more?
You don’t seem to know who the fuck you’re messing with.
Obviously not, considering you never talk to me. Congratulations. From now on, I’m sparing you the hassle.