Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
We spent our teens around each other. We’d see each other when our dads met for poker games or held meetings. Of course, we’ve had discussions over the years, but only in a professional capacity. The past few years, though, we’ve mostly engaged through messengers or gotten together to shake hands or sign some agreement.
“Now here we are all these years later,” he goes on. “You tied up in my study, about to have the most important conversation of our lives.”
“Well, that’s a buildup. Now, please, for the love of God, tell me what you’re getting at.”
He laughs. “Our wedding, you sexy motherfucker.”
“Um…what?”
No, seriously. What?
His grin suggests how much he’s enjoying this. He takes another swig before approaching. “Don’t try to back out now. I’ve been looking forward to this, dreaming about this day. And you are quite a catch, I see. And that dick, does it grow more than that?” Killian Lorde is an out and proud bi crime boss, and the way his gaze is set on my cock makes his interest in dudes crystal clear. I wonder if he’s comparing my size to other guys he’s been with. “Should I give it a tug to find out?”
“Sorry, abduction isn’t a turn-on for me.” I twist, shifting to keep him from being able to look at it, but he moves closer, his drink in one hand as he reaches toward it with the other.
“Do you mind?” he asks, as though he’s being a gentleman. When I don’t reply, he says, “I’ll take silence as a yes, so tell me no if you don’t want me touching you.”
I don’t imagine he’ll respect what I say either way, so I stay silent, and he cops a feel. He cups my balls and studies my cock. Something in the way his jaw sets makes me think he likes what he sees and is tempted to probe further, but he pulls his hand away, swallowing like it was a struggle to do that much, leaving behind a warm sensation I try to ignore because it didn’t feel half bad.
“What is this wedding crap you’re referring to?”
“You haven’t answered if it grows, but you want me to answer that?”
“I’m straight, so it won’t do that for you. Sorry.” My sorry couldn’t be more sarcastic.
“You didn’t deny it, so I’ll take that as a yes,” he says quietly, sounding deeply satisfied.
“But I’m straight,” I stress again.
“I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry, but I think I’m missing something here.”
He tilts his head. “Do you really think playing oblivious means I won’t collect? The Lordes always collect.”
“I don’t doubt that, but, Killian, I’m being sincere when I tell you I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” That’s not entirely honest. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in my gut that I do, and I just hope I’m wrong.
He walks over to a black desk adjacent to me. He digs through the drawers, retrieving some papers.
Oh fuck.
Once he said wedding, these papers played through my mind, and now, there they fucking are. What the hell did I get myself into?
“I kept these handy in case you wanted to review the fine print.” He approaches me, displaying the last page, bearing my signature. “That’s you, yes?”
“You know damn well it is. Dad gave me that to sign and said it would ensure we were taken care of. I don’t see how that could have anything to do with a wedding. You sure this isn’t some dumb shit they did on poker night?” I know better, but there’s some faint hope in me that Killian will reveal this has all been a shitty birthday prank.
But if it is, he’s not laughing. His brow furrows. “Now, Logan, you know as well as I do that nothing in this world comes for free. Old Terror was good with your father, who had plenty of debts, and everyone knew the moment he passed, your rivals would descend upon your house.”
I’m annoyed that he’s talking down to me. “I don’t need a blow-by-blow. I’m familiar with my family’s history.”
“So my father agreed to keep the Wildes safe, on the condition that the eldest sons of our houses would marry when you turned twenty-seven, which would be today.”
“None of this makes sense. Why would twenty-seven be the age? And why would marrying be the best solution to keeping my family safe?”
“Doesn’t make sense? This is the way things have been done in the past. My great-grandfather married my great-grandmother as a truce between rivals. Following that, twenty-seven was the age the families agreed upon because it allowed my grandmother to have some time to enjoy her freedoms, just as my mother then had before marrying my father to ensure the safety of our house. A lot of good that did us. And since you’re the younger of the two of us, it was established that you should have the same opportunities of enjoying your youth before fulfilling your duty.”