Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“That sounds like the worst blowjob of my life!” Miguel growled, glancing longingly at the pool he wanted to jump into to cool off. Not that he’d ever gotten head, so there wasn’t anything he could compare his boss’s skills to, but Nero didn’t need to know that. In fact, Nero shouldn’t know that.
“Never had a complaint,” he said, his voice coming from uncomfortably close as they walked across the lawn surrounding the water.
And yet, Miguel wouldn’t dare taunt Nero about the toothpaste again, no matter how many comebacks about it he had in him, because Nero forgetting about that fuckup meant that Miguel would keep his head.
He stopped, eying Nero from the side of the pool.
“I’m not gay, okay? You can stop barking up this tree already.”
Nero placed his hands on his narrow hips, as if he needed to show just how broad his shoulders were in comparison. “We'll see when you come with me to a gay bar tonight.”
“What? Why?” This was punishment, and they both knew it. Nero was ready to give him a night from hell.
“So I can get that drink you offered before.” Nero cocked his head and stepped closer, as if he intended to challenge Miguel. It was now all too obvious that the offer had only been about luring Nero to the kitchen.
Miguel wondered whether he could slither out of this ordeal somehow, but since he hadn’t spent his life seducing people, he didn’t know how to start a charm offensive.
“I could get you one now?”
He was in the process of raising the hem of his shirt, to confuse Nero with bare skin, but the bastard shoved him back, and moments later, chlorinated water sucked Miguel in and snuck into his nose.
Fuck.
Despite the weather, Miguel wore heavy boots, since he never knew what situation he’d end up in, and now they weighed him down as if they were made of lead. He grabbed the edge of the pool, because, of course, Nero had thrown him in at the deep end.
“You happy now? We’re even?” he snarled, blinking away water as he glared at the towering form above.
Nero grinned and took out his phone before snapping a picture. “Go on, Mister Wet T-Shirt, get out and convince me you should be the winner.”
Miguel shook his head and crawled out, drenched and unhappy. He was acutely aware that his tank top did in fact stick to him like second skin. His looks weren’t something he used to think much about, beyond making sure he was intimidating enough for it to make his job easier, but being around Nero… well... turned out he did get a kick out of the freak’s interest in him, even if it would go nowhere.
So under the pretense of getting water out of his top, he did take off the soaked garment and twisted it in his hands, making sure to flex his arms. Strength was his main goal at the gym, but lately he had been paying a bit more attention to how his musculature could be perceived.
“No T-shirt, no contest,” he grumbled.
Nero watched him, remaining silent for so long Miguel was starting to break out in goosebumps, but he finally opened his mouth and passed his fingers across Miguel’s stomach. The touch was like a lick of fire, and Miguel found himself struggling for balance as Nero brought the gathered moisture to his mouth and licked it off with his gaze fixed on him. “If they have that kind of contest at the bar tonight, you’re participating. Be ready at ten.”
And with that, he walked off.
Fuck.
Chapter 3
Miguel
Miguel had tried it all. He’d proposed that Nero could take one of the Correas instead of him, then insisted Nero should take all three of his men, since there would be so many people at the club, and even tried to excuse himself with a stomach ache, but it had all been in vain. Nero would rather have him puke on the reflective dancefloor than give up on the cruel and unusual punishment of exposing Miguel to male strippers, one of whom rolled down the pole and did the splits, presenting his bare ass cheeks. And since all floors, and the ceiling were covered in mirrors too, the dancer’s toned, nearly naked body could be seen from all angles at once.
Miguel turned toward the bar where a man in a red leather harness poured drinks for a crowd of men in party gear ranging from suits to feathered speedos. He could use a couple of shots himself. As if the ordeal of having to be at this meat market wasn’t annoying enough, Nero kept prodding at him instead of looking for a new dick to sit on in this loud box of glass, sweat, and desire.
“Go on, look. He could be hiding a weapon on him,” he said, grabbing Miguel’s jaw and pulling on it to direct his gaze back to the handsome dancer, who was back up against the pole and tipped his cowboy hat at their little group.