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)
“That was the show of the year,” Roach said, searching Zane’s face for a sign of interest that he might not even recognize, but his gaze kept straying to the dark spot where the T-shirt stuck to Zane’s damp chest.
Ali, who frequented all MC events, emerged from the crowd and placed her hands on Zane’s hips pressing close. She shut her eyes as she breathed in his scent. Sandalwood. Citrus. She was claiming that same aroma Roach had already considered his own, but before he could have stepped away, once again a loser in the game of life, Zane gently pried Ali’s fingers away from his flesh and whispered some excuse that had her frowning.
Roach was happy he’d worn comfortable jeans, because his dick filled as soon as Zane stood closer. “Are you leaving alread…?” he trailed off when Zane removed his T-shirt, exposing short black hairs in the middle of his chest and skin that shone as if it had been oiled with Roach’s own hands. Oh, he’d have been so thorough, were Zane to ever allow him the privilege of giving him a massage.
Zane used the shirt to dry his flesh, and as the bundled-up fabric traced the pecs and rolled down his stomach, Roach struggled to keep his gaze from following it down. Down. Down.
“Me? Nah, don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight. Might have to crash here,” Zane said and opened a pocket in the backpack Roach was still holding. He pulled out a dark green T-shirt and stuffed the dirty one in its place before rising to his feet again.
Roach should’ve been stepping away, he really should’ve been because at some point his erection would be spotted, but no matter how many times his brain told him so, he only wanted to be closer and rub himself against Zane’s leg like a dog in heat. He couldn’t remember ever being struck with an infatuation this intense. As if Zane had smothered himself in pheromones.
“Here?” Get a fucking grip, Roach. “Sure, you can stay.”
Zane’s eyes twinkled, their sunrise blinding Roach again. The music was back on, so he had to lean in and speak straight into Roach’s ear, tickling it with his breath. “Thanks man. Would you get me a beer? I’m so damn thirsty I might lose my voice. And that throat really needs some moisture tonight,” he said, tapping his Adam’s apple.
Roach’s eyes grew wider. Was that an innuendo? Roach was now rock-hard either way, so he held Zane’s backpack in front of his crotch, desperate to hide the evidence of his excitement. He leaned in under the pretense of the music being too loud for them to talk. “I’ve got some good bourbon if you like it.”
“That was some show, man!” Ajax roared, appearing out of nowhere, and patted Zane’s back as if they were friends.
Roach had to stop himself from snarling like a dog forced to let go of his bone. “He’s staying the night. We were just going to drop his stuff off in the guest room.” He wasn’t giving up without a fight.
Ajax’s eyes narrowed somewhat, but in the end, he slapped Zane’s back again. “Sure, sure, just talk him through all the dos and don’ts. This ain’t a hotel.”
Like Roach didn’t fucking know. He didn’t even acknowledge the comment. He just stared back into the grey eyes hiding under unusually dark eyelids. “Bourbon?”
Zane’s mouth crooked. “Show me the way. I’m parched,” he said, his lips so close to Roach’s ear it almost felt like a caress. They were two petals, and Roach longed to taste them with his unworthy mouth. He’d also gladly stick his dick between those lips if he got half the chance.
Never letting go of the backpack, he chose a route through the bar, glad that he didn't stumble upon his father on the way.
As soon as they entered the corridor in the back, dusky and dull with its wooden panels and Hustler posters hung up for decoration, the music and voices dulled, leaving them with a sudden silence Roach was desperate to fill.
“Don’t like to drink the good shit out there. Everyone wants a sip, and it’s gone in an hour. They don’t even appreciate it, you know? If they wanna get smashed, they can drink the cheap shit,” he said, leading the way through the dingy common room filled with old leather chairs bearing cum and beer stains.
The last thing he needed were witnesses, so he was glad to find the place empty. The familiar creak of a bed crying out under the fast assault of a man’s hips drew his attention to his Dad’s private room, but he dismissed whatever was going on there and squeezed his way between the cluttered furniture.
“But I will? Appreciate it, I mean?” Zane asked in his honey-drenched voice. Somehow, the entire space smelled of sandalwood and citrus now, not of booze, cigs, and the cheap air freshener they used to tidy up this dump from time to time.