Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
A guttural moan left his throat as the big, spongy cockhead pressed on sensitive flesh, but he’d done this many times before and relaxed, finally letting it in deeper, to fill the unreasonable hunger to slobber around the cock of the man who’d betrayed him.
It tasted so much better than any dick he had sucked in a long time. Its addictive flavor made Zane roll his hips and seek pleasure in the confines of his own pants, so he shut his eyes and went on, withdrawing to caress the head, and then taking it to the hilt again, which went more smoothly each time.
Time didn’t matter when his nose was buried in Roach’s pubes. A strong hand massaged his shoulder while the other played with Zane’s hair, as if his lover physically needed to express his gratitude for the best head of his life.
“I can’t hold it much longer,” Roach whined, pushing the thick soles of his boots against Zane’s calves as if he wanted to hold him with all his limbs. “Your mouth… so hot…” he babbled, panting through his nose as if he were a revving motorcycle.
Zane curled his toes, sucking on the cock while it slid out of his mouth. He grabbed the shaft, resting the pulsing head on his bottom lip, and pumped, as if he wanted to squeeze all the masculine juices accumulated in Roach’s balls straight on his tongue.
Roach kept eye contact when he came, lips parted and trembling, thick dark eyebrows low over green, lusty eyes. His grip on Zane’s hair tightened, but never felt aggressive, so Zane would let that slide, too in the zone to care. Roach’s stomach muscles moved under the hairy skin like a nest of hungry snakes when he gasped for air, his cum filling Zane’s mouth spurt after spurt. He swallowed, fired up by the hunger in Roach’s eyes, but the warm tingle he’d been feeling in his own dick became more intense, as if an invisible hand squeezed his dick.
And then he was coming. Like a teenager, straight into his pants, and as pathetic as that was, the stickiness only made him suck on Roach’s dick harder. He vaguely remembered that when they’d fucked in the morning, Roach had also come at the same time as him, but he’d assumed it was because he’d rubbed Roach’s prostate just right.
“Want me to suck you?” Roach whispered between one gasp and another, unaware of what had happened, but Zane grunted and rested his cheek on the hairy thigh, staring at the softening dick as he caught his breath.
“The curse did it for you.”
It was ridiculous. Should they sixty-nine next time to both get the full experience? Was this what his life would be like until they parted?
“Oh… Shame,” Roach said with a silly grin, still looking down at Zane with that blissful expression.
“If you want a throat fuck, you know where to find me. Not gonna be gentle this time,” Zane said, ignoring the unpleasant wetness in his underwear. They’d have to do a pit stop in their room when he could have come on the floor, or wiped his dick on Roach’s face, like a normal person.
Roach hummed, reaching for his sweaty long sleeve. No. This outfit wouldn’t do.
Zane got to his feet, still wobbly in the knees. “We gotta get you changed, so you look more presentable. She’s not gonna open the door for you if you look like you’ve just finished a shift at a construction site and hadn’t even bothered to change.”
Roach slowly pulled his pants up, too happy with himself to let Zane’s words get to him. “I could take the tools and say I’m there to fix her plumbing?”
It was a joke, but Zane wasn’t having it. “And then what? Ask her to pay you in an impromptu ghost summoning. No.”
Roach shrugged, but when he leaned down to get his tool belt, Zane could swear he let his pants fall lower on purpose.
Chapter 11 – Roach
“Are you sure this is the right address?” Zane asked as he slid off Roach’s motorbike and stepped closer to the tidy farmhouse with pale siding.
Several trees were peppered around the fenced-off garden that featured flowers and plastic gnomes. It wasn’t the creepy Victorian-style building Roach imagined ‘Karla von Ecker’—if that was her real name—to live in. Even at night the place looked like the home of the perfect family movie grandmother, and the lamp illuminating one of the rooms revealed a stained glass window with a mandala-like pattern.
“It’s the only house around,” Roach said, glancing at the empty road leading into dark nothingness. They’d ridden past the nearest neighbors five minutes ago, and the number attached to the front of the house aligned with the one from Karla von Ecker’s book.
Roach unbuttoned the collar of the shirt Zane had made him wear for this meeting. Black. Like the suit jacket hidden under the leather one. Not because Roach fancied himself an overgrown goth, but because he was wearing the only suit he owned—the one he’d gotten for all the funerals.