Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
‘Suck me. Suck me. Suck me.’ is all my brain is capable of.
He drags my jeans halfway down my thighs, eyes focused on the front of my briefs, where my cock is already poking at the waistband, ever larger.
Corvus’s eyes are so dark even an experienced diver might have doubts before taking a plunge into their depths. He pants, releasing hot air over my dick.
“Fuck… yes… you smell so wild,” he mumbles in a choked voice, and licks from the base of my cock all the way to the head. His expression’s blissful. He’s quivering, and when I push my fingers into his messy hair, he swirls that clever tongue around the top.
The heat of his mouth is melting all inhibitions, and I let my head fall back when Corvus Van der Horn takes my cock with a sigh that sounds suspiciously like relief.
"Caught red-handed, cheater!" A man yells, kicking the door open and barging in. "You're not allowed to take part in the hunt either, and now everyone knows…"
I stare back into the blue eyes of a young man in tactical gear, bewildered by what’s going on, but when I spot the phone in his hand, pointed right at us with its camera, I reflexively bend over to cover Corvus’s face. My cock falls from his mouth, feeling colder than before now that it’s wet, and Corvus scrambles to his feet, staggering toward the young man.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Get lost, Aspen!” he roars, forcing the other man back with his presence alone as I cover my dick with my hand. “And delete that!”
Aspen looks between him and me with his mouth open. “I… I just… I can’t delete it! It’s live! I wanted to show everyone… and… you—”
“Corvus! What on earth?” An older man’s voice comes from the phone, and I see Corvus stumble as he tries to retreat. But there’s no escaping this. When Aspen turns the phone to us, I see several different people on the partitioned screen, and they’ve all seen Corvus suck my cock.
“This… this is private,” Corvus mumbles, his hands twitching in the cool light coming through the open door. “Get the fuck out!” He reaches to his belt, and a small curved knife glints in the faint sunshine.
“Don’t you dare hurt my son!” The older man yells through the phone as Aspen takes a step back and someone else on the call starts laughing like a maniac.
“What is this, Corvus? What’s happening?” A pretty, teary-eyed woman asks, making Corvus stop in his tracks.
At least by now my dick is soft and back in my pants.
“Isn’t that….” a young man’s face takes up most of the screen. He’s got a pierced nose and green hair. “Is that the hot prisoner we discussed earlier?”
“You would remember that jawline,” a woman laughs, but here time’s standing still, and I wonder if I shouldn’t help Corvus somehow. Too bad he might end up gutting me by accident.
“I’s unsportsmanlike to lie!” the older man pipes up again.
Aspen stands in the doorway, looking increasingly lost, but a sneaky smile is slipping onto his face. “You want me to turn it off, or…?”
The question isn’t meant for me, but I still decide to show Corvus my support by putting my hand on his shoulder, and I kiss the side of his head.
He yields, as if we’ve known each other for months, not less than a day, and the knife falls to the dusty floor as he blindly grabs my open jacket.
“He—” Corvus swallows so loudly I hear it despite the chatter coming from the phone. “He’s my fiancé.”
Am I…?
I look at him as the world slows down around us. My heart beats ever faster, and fireworks erupt in my head and dick.
Chapter 7
Corvus
The dense odor of hot chocolate will forever remind me of this humiliating day. Members of my family are occupying all the various armchairs and couches crowding the drawing room. The Christmas decorations transform the already opulent space into a fantasy of the perfect holiday from a century ago. Too bad I’ve been gifted a piece of coal in the shape of Aspen’s smartphone.
The kid is hiding behind his parents now, unusually quiet as he feeds on his second mug of chocolate. Oh, he should be worried, because I am a very, very patient man.
My other gift kneels under the huge Christmas tree, clad in a Santa-themed tracksuit that’s way too small on him. The stretched fabric reveals thick, hairy forearms and calves, and—worst of all—the meat of Dalton’s tattooed stomach. At least he’s not wet and shivering anymore, which I shouldn’t care about, yet here we are.
I keep my distance, even though he tries to capture my gaze, because birds of prey are all around us, and if I show weakness, they will rip us both apart.