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)
Sweat, oil, smoke, and sin seeped through his nostrils as his groans mixed with Lincoln’s grunts.
They wrestled, grappled, and fought for dominance, but fucking hell—Lincoln was winning.
Lincoln controlled his wildness, tamed it without breaking it.
It was maddening and so fucking sexy it drove him insane.
They barely made it inside Lincoln’s condo.
A trail of their torn clothes littered the floor from the door to the bedroom.
Sharpe was shoved onto the mattress before Lincoln pressed all his weight down on him, skin to skin, heat to heat.
He hissed, arching his back, gripping Lincoln’s shoulders so hard his fingers cramped.
It’d been so long since he’d felt the solid weight of another man on him, pinning him, claiming him.
Lincoln’s words were low, wicked—promises, curses, filthy praise—spreading fire along every nerve.
Sharpe’s cock throbbed between them as Lincoln ground down, slick with precum, the pressure to release it all building relentlessly.
He hated that Lincoln had this power already.
But Sharpe’s mind—fucked as it was—still battled for control.
“Fuck you,” he snarled, trying but failing to flip Lincoln over so he could be on top.
“That growl is mine now,” Lincoln grunted as he gripped their cocks together. “Only I get to hear it.”
“And how long before you’re tired of hearing it and I’m discarded?” he spat through gritted teeth. “And you become some other lucky bastard’s gentleman?”
Lincoln froze. He pulled back and glared down at him, eyes flashing like lightning.
His voice was low, feral. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever put me in a category like that.”
His breath caught at the ire in Lincoln’s voice.
“I’m not a goddamn tramp, Channing. I’ve never slept with one of my hearts. Ever. Belladonna isn’t a fuckin’ brothel. It’s not a goddamn hookup house. Yeah, I’ve had a couple of boyfriends over the years—they didn’t work out. I’ve gotten off at clubs, on apps like any other man. But not here. Not at Belladonna.”
Lincoln fisted his hand in Sharpe’s hair, forcing him to look at him dead-on.
“Did I offer you a fuckin’ contract? Huh? I never asked you to be a resident, and I don’t want you to be. Thorn didn’t introduce us.” He pressed his forehead to his. “Every gentleman finds that one heart he wants to claim and never let go.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Lincoln’s gaze softened. “You think you’re the only one afraid? I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was twenty.”
Sharpe’s confusion cut through his suspicion, leaving him raw. His lips twitched, just barely, the closest thing to a smile he’d had in forever.
Because fuck—he desperately wanted Lincoln to be his. Not a case. Not a con. Not a contract. His.
“I swear to god, Linc…if you’re fuckin’ with me.” Sharpe gripped Lincoln behind his neck. “I’ll make you pay for—”
Lincoln kissed the rest of his threat away as he began to stroke them back to full hardness.
Sharpe’s toes were curling, his chest heaving, eyes rolling.
“You’re already fuckin’ trembling. Look at how much you want me.”
“Shut the fuck up. You think you’ve got me—”
Lincoln slammed his hot mouth over his again. He already knew how to shut him up.
Lincoln’s mouth tasted too good not to slide his tongue inside it every chance he was given.
“I don’t think…I know. But keep pretending, Channing. It’s only making me harder.”
“You’re so goddamn cocky. You think you’re the first bastard to press me against a wall?”
“No, but I will be the last.”
Lincoln pumped his shaft, forcing more precum before he pressed his nail into his slit.
“Fuck!” he hollered so loud he was sure they heard him on the other side of the mansion. “Motherfucker.”
“I’m gonna wring every goddamn sound out of you until you’re begging for my cock.”
“I’m not begging you for shit.”
Lincoln ground harder into him, stroking faster.
“Then why are your fists clenched like you’re fighting not to give in to me?”
He struggled to catch his breath…and unclench his fists. Sharpe wanted to rut, he wanted to come, he wanted Lincoln to take his control and own it.
Lincoln licked a searing path up his throat.
“You wanna fight me, Channing, then fight.” Lincoln’s breaths were ragged, his skin flushed as beads of sweat ran down his temple. “I’ve wanted your anger from day one.”
Lincoln squeezed the head of his dick and pushed his thumbnail inside his slit again, making him buck hard enough to almost throw Lincoln off.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Lincoln moaned, glaring right into his eyes. “Fight me. I don’t want you weak. I want you furious—while I fuck the defiance out of you.”
“You arrogant son of a—” Sharpe clenched his teeth in an attempt to mute the pleasure overtaking him.
He knew he sounded ridiculous, talking shit while trembling and falling apart.
Lincoln was grinding down and stroking their cocks together with reckless abandon, fighting Sharpe in a way he’d never be able to defend against.
“I’m gonna fuck you every day and every night, Detective, until you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you.”