Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“We won’t be here much longer. At least you can run, buy yourself a little more time to live your own life.”
That’s just it.
I can’t.
Not anymore.
He took a shaky breath and shook his head, hiding his face against Brendan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “The administrative functions of a reluctant prince just aren’t that interesting. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m facing the firing squad. Just mediocrity. Billions of people survive mediocrity every day. I’ll manage.”
“And yet…” The warmth of Brendan’s hand curled against Cillian’s side. “You are anything but mediocre.”
“Nngh. Either kiss me or shut up, but no compliments.”
Brendan chuckled soundlessly. “I think I’ll opt for kissing.”
“Oh thank God,” Cillian breathed, before Brendan claimed his mouth in a rush.
Everything Cillian had pent up for days exploded through him. That kiss unlocked the floodgates, repressed desire coursing through him in an instant as he pushed himself up to meet Brendan, tangled his fingers in silky black hair, kissed him back just hard enough that Brendan let out a guttural snarl and punished him with biting teeth, with deep-thrust pressure, with a command and control of his mouth that left Cillian helpless to do anything but submit to the onslaught of slow liquid thrusts of tongue to tongue and the grapple of burning hands against his hips, his ass.
Just the slightest touch left him a starving man shown a feast—his entire body begging for more with a desperate craving, so needy for the feeling of Brendan’s cock inside him that Cillian rubbed his thighs together as if that could ease the empty ache, pressed his knees in as if he could clamp down on the wanting. He was a mess in seconds, hands roving restlessly over Brendan’s bare chest, back arching to press himself into the heat and strength of Brendan’s body, while that tongue coiled inside him and slipped deep to leave his lips slack and panting while he offered himself up to be taken, violated, possessed—anything so long as Brendan didn’t stop kissing him that way, didn’t stop that hot and heavy hand that slid down Cillian’s back, scorching him through his thin, loose shirt.
A deep rumble vibrated between them, and Brendan pulled back just enough for low words to drift between their lips, mocking and yet rough with desire. “It would seem you’ve missed me, Cillian. Do you need what I do to you so much?”
“Yes,” Cillian answered, the word out almost before Brendan finished asking. Struggling to breathe, his chest on fire with every scouring inhalation, Cillian lowered his eyes, tracing his fingers over the sculpted line between Brendan’s pectorals, absorbing himself in the taut sensation of skin beneath his fingertips. “You…you knew I would say that.”
“I did.” Brendan curled his knuckles underneath Cillian’s jaw, coaxing him to look up, refusing to let him avoid that dark, compelling gaze that drifted over his face, his throat, as if looking for where to bite, every lingering glance making Cillian shiver. “I just like hearing how easily you admit it. No posturing. No ego. No denial.” A rough thumb grazed over Cillian’s mouth, and he felt as if his lips swelled and throbbed as much as his aching cock, wanting contact. “Just you. Open and honest and so very, very hungry.”
Cillian licked his tingling lips, and nearly groaned as he caught a hint of Brendan’s skin, his warmth. “Why would I deny it? You told me…you won’t know what I want if I don’t tell you.” He curled his fingers against Brendan’s chest. “And I want you. I’m…I’m too selfish to pretend I don’t just out of pride.”
“Is that selfishness?”
“I don’t know.” Cillian swallowed. “It…it depends on if you want what I want…or if you’re just doing it to humor me.”
One dark, thick brow rose. Brown eyes glinted hotly.
And Brendan caught Cillian’s hand, guiding it down—over Brendan’s stomach, past those tempting, enticingly perfect ripples of his abdomen, lower still…until Cillian’s fingers brushed over the thin black cotton of Brendan’s pajama pants, and the hardness beneath. Straining. Jerking in hard, pulsating throbs under his fingers, this ravening animal with a life of its own, and as Cillian settled his hand against that hard ridge of flesh, Brendan let out a soft, rasping hiss, exhaling on a shudder.
“…does that feel like I’m humoring you, Cillian?”
“N-no.” Face hot, Cillian lowered his lashes, watching the path of his own fingers as he molded them against Brendan’s cock, stroking along its length through the fabric, his mouth nearly watering when he could feel it—the echo of how Brendan felt inside him, the way that cock could split him open and leave him writhing, begging, desperate for every thrust, thrusts Brendan mimicked with such raw, entrancing sensuality as he groaned, lifting himself into Cillian’s touch, eyes slipping half-closed until Cillian could hardly break himself from the hypnotism of watching him to speak again. “…but you might not want…to go that far.”