Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Sooo… What did you do to end up here?” he asked, cocking his head.
Hammer looked indifferent, as if he were already bored with his imprisonment, but then he turned around and stepped back, presenting Dex his cuffed hands. “Get those off me.”
Dex stilled for a moment, but then put the keys into his pocket. “Sorry, no can do. But I can entertain you with sparkling conversation.”
“Conversation isn’t gonna unscrew the water bottle for me, or open that bag of tortilla chips,” Hammer said, pressing his shoulders to the bars.
Hmmm… There was a point to that. Dex hadn’t exactly thought this through, but since Hammer was already caged, it shouldn’t matter if the cuffs were off. He would have an excuse to stand closer if he was to remove them. And if Hammer did drink all that water, he’d eventually have to pee, and that would be an opportunity to check if his dick lived up to Dex’s imagination.
He laughed and approached the subdued predator. “You got me there.”
As he prepared to unlock the cuffs, he did assess the danger of Hammer ripping the keys out of his hands, but Dex was armed and could always flee the container and block the entrance from outside.
As he came closer, the exhilarating scent of cedarwood made him pause and look up the broad back to the brown tangle of straight yet messy hair. He would think back to that scent the next time he jerked off.
But Hammer was waiting, so Dex eventually pushed the keys through the bars and, with his heart beating faster, took hold of the warm hand. Rough to the touch, it was used to handling guns, and tools, and—Dex bet on that—hips. But when the hot prisoner made no attempt to grab Dex and wrestle him, he unlocked the cuffs one by one before stepping back with sweat beading above his lip.
It felt like handling a wild animal that could snap one’s neck if it got the upper hand. Despite the bars keeping him safe for now, Dex’s heart trembled (no, throbbed) by the time Hammer dropped the cuffs to the floor and stared straight at him with a sparse smile.
“Thanks.”
The tone of his voice, while friendly, sounded a bit as though there was a silent I’ll kill you last at the end. Dex was no masochist, nor did he have a death wish, but the things he’d let this man do to him…
“Sure. There’s no point for the cuffs and the bars at the same time, it’s like wearing two condoms.” Why did he say that? Why did he have to say that? “I mean, not like two people wearing condoms, but wearing two on one dick.” He stepped away, all too aware that he was digging his hole deeper instead of making things better.
Hammer did not pick up on that embarrassing thread and approached the box of snacks. When he scooted down next to it, Dex’s attention was instantly taken by the way thighs filled those well-fitting jeans.
“Life will throw things at you regardless of how hard you try to protect yourself. I’m here because someone took my personal notes as a threat. This is what I get after thirteen years with the club.”
Dex frowned, trying to make himself focus on Hammer’s words instead of imagining the jeans sliding down in this position and showing the top of his crack. He wouldn’t get to know if it was happening because the leather jacket obscured Hammer’s tailbone, but focusing on anything but the hot stuff behind bars was becoming harder by the minute.
“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding then, and you’ll be back to hammering people in no time—In, like, the murderous way, not the sexual way. Even though you surely also fuck. You know what I mean.”
Hammer grabbed a bag of chips and walked up to the bars in silence, as if his sheer presence scared noise off. When he opened the package, it sounded like an explosion. “You want some?”
Dex’s smile widened, but when he reached for the food, something hit the roof of the container with a loud thud. Quick steps followed.
Fuck.
Hammer frowned and looked up so fast the small silver rings in his ears jiggled.
Dex stepped back. “It’s Jag, I’ll deal with him.”
And just as expected, another thud later, Jag landed in the open doorway and walked in with his ‘spear’ in hand. He wore pauldrons studded with rusty nails and his long hair was a wild tangle, but his appearance didn’t fool Dex. Jag was a pussycat. He’d even gotten domesticated last year, and instead of continuing to dwell in dens hidden around the junkyard, he’d settled into a cozy, if self-made, house with his boyfriend. Or mate, as Jag called him. The whole thing was hilarious.
“I’m here to swap with you,” Jag announced and hit the blunt end of his spear against the floor, making the container echo.