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)
The box was the size of a six-pack of beer and the way Nero carried it suggested it didn’t weigh much, so what was it? Drugs? A little side operation for extra cash? The other man’s eyes settled on him in silence. What? No disgusting gay comments?
Nero licked his sharpened teeth and shrugged. “Oh. Am I finally getting lucky?”
There it was. Surprisingly tame for Nero. Was he distracted by the contents of his parcel?
“You could call it that. I need to discuss something, and it’s best to do that over a drink.” Miguel led the way back into the villa, trying to come up with something to talk about while Nero’s gaze licked his back and ass.
He would have never admitted to it, but knowing that Nero fantasized about sex with him left Miguel with a sense of unease, even though his boss made it very clear what he wanted was to be nailed rather than doing the opposite. It made his brain have those little flashes of holding Nero down, naked. And while he wanted to tell himself those unwanted fantasies were about revenge on the Morenos, the ecstasy on Nero’s face always told a different story.
Miguel hated this pervert and the weird things he made him feel.
That drink better be strong.
Nero snorted. “I will pour. We shall see if you get any easier soon.”
Miguel took a deep breath, wondering if it was a joke or a threat. So far, Nero had never done anything that would have taken away Miguel’s freedom to reject him, but who knew what he might do if frustrated for long enough? He would be watching that damn glass like a hawk.
“I won’t,” he grumbled as they entered the spacious, empty kitchen with stone tiles on the floor and walls.
Nero placed the box by the microwave, prompting Miguel to think about ways of distracting the weirdo to get his hands on the parcel. A quiet voice in his head suggested he could bait Nero a bit more, but if Miguel gave the pervert a finger, he’d take the whole hand.
That was how Nero got perfectly normal guys to sleep with him. Whatever happened, Miguel needed to keep his wits about him.
Nero glanced inside a cupboard where all the liquor was stored and shifted his weight, which made his buttocks move under the denim, drawing Miguel’s eyes like a flytrap. “Ah, nothing good here. I’ll bring my special tequila,” he said and walked toward the staircase.
And left his parcel unattended.
Miguel didn’t think. He just grabbed it and moved to the other exit, but Nero’s voice froze him to the tiled floor.
Nero was back in the doorway, his mouth opening in a grimace of surprise when it became obvious what Miguel was trying to do. “The fuck?” he yelled.
Miguel didn’t try to run. There was no time.
He opened his switchblade and cut the tape on the box, but didn’t get to peek inside, because Nero tackled him from the back, and they both dropped to the hard floor.
A fist smashed into his face, sending him toward the kitchen island, but Nero wasn’t done, and his gun glinted in the sunlight coming in through the window. Miguel grabbed his wrist to keep the barrel from turning toward him, but slipped in the process, and they both collapsed.
With Miguel on the bottom.
He hated every split second, and pushed at Nero with his elbow while grabbing the golden barrel with his other hand. Being so close to him was a new kind of torture but it still beat having his brains blown out.
“I’m checking it for your safety!” he hollered even though it was a flimsy excuse.
When Nero smacked him again, Miguel’s face snapped sideways, and he saw the contents of the box spilled all over the floor.
It was a box of… toothpaste? Did it contain drugs, or something?
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Nero roared, showing a row of shark-like teeth in his bottom jaw. “I will eviscerate you!”
Miguel was too stunned to fight back when Nero shook him by the shoulders, but the absurdity of the situation dawned on him when he glanced at the boxes once more. “Do you need special toothpaste for those?” he asked, as if Nero were human and had mundane problems, like teeth sensitivity.
Nero froze, and then smacked him across the face, but it was more of a bitch slap than a punch. “Fuck you. You’re dead, you hear me?” he roared as his cheeks reddened.
"You wouldn't kill me before getting a taste of my cock,” Miguel said to distract Nero, because the gun in his hand could fire at any moment. To make his point, Miguel opened both his palms and showed them in a gesture of surrender.
Nero’s chest was pumped full of air, like a balloon about to burst, but he realized his secret was out and put the gun back into the holster under his armpit before slapping Miguel’s head. “Sonofabitch. Do you have a death wish?”