Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Panting hard, Jordan moved his hips, fucking himself on the thick cock and imagining that it was Damiano standing behind him, fucking him hard—
The doorbell rang.
Jordan froze, his eyes flying open. Maybe he could ignore whoever it was and they would go away.
Gritting his teeth, he resumed moving, fucking himself on the cock.
The doorbell rang again.
Swearing under his breath, Jordan pulled off of the dildo with great reluctance and pulled a white robe over his bare shoulders, tying it loosely around his waist. More than a little irritated, Jordan strode toward the door. He was so hard he was close to crying from frustration, his hole clenching around nothing, greedy for cock.
He yanked the door open, but his scathing remark died on his lips when he saw the tall man in a dark coat standing on the other side.
For a moment, Jordan was sure it wasn’t real. It must have been a dream. How many dreams like this had he had? Too many to count.
But it felt so real.
Damiano stared at him, his gaze dark and unreadable. He looked mouthwateringly good, as usual. Even more so than usual, because the melting snow on his dark eyelashes and hair added a brightness to him that made him look unbearably attractive.
Jordan swallowed. He felt too hot, still too desperate and aroused to think clearly, his cock throbbing under his robe and he was this close to—this close to jumping Damiano and climbing him like a monkey. Which was ridiculous, because he was a lot bigger than a monkey, but it was what he burned to do. Climb this man and cling to him. And then pull out his cock and ride it hard. Not necessarily in that order.
“You’re home,” Damiano said. There was a faint accusation in his voice, as if he didn’t expect him to be at home.
“Where else would I be at ten in the evening?” Jordan croaked out, gripping the door frame. “And don’t you have cameras in my apartment?”
“I thought you might be with your family,” Damiano said, still looking at him accusingly even as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Jordan’s robe, dragging him close. “And no, I left my laptop in Italy.”
Their foreheads pressed together, and Jordan had no thoughts left, his mind going utterly blank. He inhaled Damiano’s scent greedily, his body trembling with violent need. He sank his shaking fingers into Damiano’s hair, reveling in the familiar texture. Damiano’s breathing hitched, but he didn’t move.
God, he couldn’t fucking stand it. He wanted to consume him. He wanted to suck on his tongue until he passed out from lack of air.
With a defeated groan, Jordan crushed their mouths together—and everything else disappeared.
Damiano made an inhuman sound and kissed back, as forcefully, shoving his tongue down Jordan’s throat. They both moaned in relief—and hunger. So much hunger. Jordan couldn’t kiss him as deeply as he wanted to. He whined in frustration, sucking on Damiano’s tongue like it was the holy grail, his hands roaming all over the other man’s firm body, dragging his coat off. It fell to the ground and Jordan fumbled with Damiano’s belt and fly, pulling Damiano inside his apartment.
Finally, he had Damiano’s cock in his hand, hot, hard, and perfect. The shape of it was so familiar, but his dildos had nothing on the real thing’s texture and warmth. Desperate, Jordan untied his robe and let it fall to the floor. “Fuck me,” he breathed against Damiano’s mouth, stroking his cock greedily. “Fuck me, or I’ll fucking explode and die.”
Damiano laughed hoarsely as Jordan attempted to climb his body and sit on his cock. “Easy,” he ground out. “I can’t fuck you like this. You need prep.”
“I’m ready,” Jordan said, kissing all over Damiano’s jaw and muscular neck, whatever he could reach, cradling his face greedily. “I was fucking myself on my dildo when you rang the doorbell. Give me the real thing.”
Damiano cursed and shoved him face first to the wall. Jordan knocked his nose against the wall, and it hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t care: he arched his back like a slut as firm fingers gripped his hips. Distantly, he was aware that they were barely inside his apartment, and the door was still open, and anyone could come across them, but he didn’t give a fuck. He’d been craving this for half a year. He didn’t care if all of the building was watching them.
“Come on,” he gasped, his mind blank but for the molten need. “Need your cock in me.”
Biting him at the back of his neck, Damiano slammed into him in one long thrust.
Jordan cried out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Such fullness and heat. So good. His dildos had nothing on the real thing, on the real man.