Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I need you,” Wes breathed. “Now.”
Law reversed their positions and stared down at Wes in awe and absolute terror of how much he loved him.
“Forgive me,” Law pleaded, voice hoarse as he brushed away the last of Wes’s tears.
He reached over and fumbled on the side table for the lube.
He slicked his fingers, his hand trembling.
Wes spread his legs beneath him, his thighs strong and tempting, eyes locked on Law’s face as if he needed to see every emotion breaking through him.
Wes gave him a slow nod as Law slid one finger inside—slowly, carefully—watching every twitch of Wes’s face.
His breath caught as Wes tilted his hips for more. He added a second finger, stretching and working him open with worship.
He was always overwhelmed when Wes gave himself like this, how vulnerable he became to his touch, how he trusted him with his body, his heart, his life.
“Law,” Wes whispered.
His name on those lips, in that tone, undid him.
He over-slicked himself, guided his head to Wes’s entrance, then paused, holding their eye contact.
They stared at each other, barely breathing, the air around them suffocating and charged.
Law pushed in slow and steady, gaze locked.
Wes’s mouth parted in a silent huff, his eyes fluttering closed as he took every inch he had to give.
His heart pounded so hard he thought he might lose control, but he gritted his teeth and held still once he was fully enveloped in Wes’s heat, restricted by the man who owned him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to Wes’s shoulder. “You feel so good, I can’t even…”
Wes wrapped his arms around him as he began to tilt his hips up. His movements languid and shallow at first, taking every inch of him until there was no separation between skin and their souls.
Wes moaned, clinging to him, shifting his hips with every roll, encouraging him for more.
Law obeyed.
He quickened his pace, desperate to satisfy Wes’s hunger.
He gripped the back of his legs at the bend of his knees, knowing just how to angle himself to make Wes shudder.
“There?” Law asked through gritted teeth.
Wes cried out. “Right fucking there.”
Law’s rhythm faltered as the pleasure became too much, but he forced himself to hold on. He had to see Wes unravel on his cock, feel the emotion between them vibrating in every stroke.
“Oh fuck,” Law groaned, his voice shaking as he thrust deeper.
Wes arched, digging his fingers into his back. “Don’t stop.”
Law pressed their mouths together, driving his hips harder, sweat dripping from his forehead, the couch shaking beneath the power they created.
Law’s climax built like a fever, every thrust slicker and hotter.
Wes came first, tightening around him, his name a shattered cry against his lips. Feeling Wes come undone—so completely—sent him tumbling over the edge.
He hollered out, burying deep and spilling inside the only man he’s ever loved.
He collapsed in a trembling heap, Wes’s limbs still locked around him, muscles twitching, chest heaving as he came back down.
He didn’t move, staying nestled inside his heaven with his lips resting against the pulse pounding in Wes’s throat.
Wes ran his hand soothingly through his hair.
He kissed the sweat-slick skin beneath his mouth and whispered, “Swear that you don’t hate me.”
Wes didn’t reply, already dozing off.
Law held him tighter, unable to sleep with such fear in his heart.
He knew now what he had to do.
Wesley (Wes) Drake
The debriefing room was cold, and not the kind he could fix by zipping up his leather jacket.
It was pregnant, heavy breaths rotating around the room like a tornado waiting for the perfect moment to touch down and destroy.
Wes sat in one of the chairs along the wall next to Law. Neither of them said a word while the “grown-ups” conversed.
God stood in the center of the room, arms behind his back. His expression was stoic as Day paced beside him like a caged Rottweiler.
Syn was stiff in the corner, hands in his pockets, while Ro leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed and his face set.
Hart was still as a fucking statue near the window, his back to them, staring outside as if the city had the answers to the questions the captain continued to holler.
He was an imposing man with lean muscles, graying temples, and deep lines in his forehead that were probably a result of frowning ninety percent of his day.
There was searing heat in his voice—already in full bark.
“What the hell happened at Briarcliff?” he snapped. “You assured me it would be a tactical sneak and peek. Silent and fast. Instead, I’ve got footage of a goddamn war zone, Godfrey!”
“We were in control the entire time,” God said, low and unbothered.
Ro nodded once. “Everything went as planned…for the most part.”
Day scoffed loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.
“You got something to add, Lieutenant?” His capitain asked.
Day stopped pacing but kept rubbing the back of his neck as though it ached. “Wes and Law could’ve been killed. That’s what I’ve got to add.”