Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
It couldn’t last. There was history between them that wouldn’t be ignored forever.
But for now...
For now, he was where he was supposed to be.
It didn’t change anything, not really. As revelations went, Hop’s was quiet, if life changing.
Rafe stood, tucked his soft cock away and helped Hop to his feet.
“Lean on me,” he said when Hop’s knees shook.
With his hands braced on Rafe’s solid shoulders, Hop rested his weight and waited for the flood of tingles to pass as blood raced to his unused limbs. Rafe’s generous palms went directly to his ass, the skin there still sensitive, but no longer burning.
“Your ass is magnificent,” Rafe said, massaging it. “Have I told you that yet?”
Hop tucked his face up into Rafe’s neck, his scent was strong there, his skin dewy from exertion. “Thank you.”
“The first time I saw it I was hooked, such an exquisite apple bottom, and cotton-candy coated too.” He combed the long strands of Hop’s pink hair. “I wanted to take a bite right then and there.”
Hop released an embarrassing noise from his throat and pushed closer; his cock was so hard it hurt. Like, not even metaphorically, it was painful. And there was nothing he could do about it, not even rub himself on Rafe because the bastard stepped away with an evil grin.
“I thought you were a girl at the time,” Rafe continued as if Hop hadn’t just tried to hump his leg, totally unconcerned with Hop’s maddening arousal, which simply made it more provocative in his wicked little mind.
He pulled Hop’s clothes up, the lace of his underpants heavenly against his bruised flesh and the bite of denim a dark temptation. Rafe reached between them, took Hop’s cock in hand and gave it a rough stroke.
It took a moment for Rafe’s words to penetrate the lust fog that clouded his brain. When they finally did, he asked, “You’re not gay?”
Rafe met his eyes and the humor reflected back at him made him feel small. Hop didn’t like it.
“That’s so black and white coming from the most colorful person I’ve ever met.”
Rattled down to his core, Hop studied his toes in the peep-toe sunshine heels. They were painted turquoise because, why not?
Rafe was right. Sexuality wasn’t just this or that. He should know better. All the layers in between were what made his life a kaleidoscope of possibility. Why should he think it was any different for Rafe? There was so much he didn’t know about the man. Rafe’s preferences were just the beginning. Hop wanted to know more so badly it was stupid.
Still, the censure in Rafe’s tone shamed him.
“Look at me, I like seeing into your eyes. They tell me more than your voice ever could.”
Yeah, that was what he was afraid of. Now, more than ever before, Hop had something to hide.
He whipped his head to the side hard enough to shake off Rafe’s grip. His legs still weren’t steady, and all at once it was too much.
Way too fucking much. He’d never been so exposed. It was as if Rafe had magnifying glasses trained on his every weakness. With just a few words he could tear them open and make Hop bleed.
As much as he wanted to pour everything he had at Rafe’s feet, he knew it was suicide.
“No,” he said.
And it landed in the room like a bomb.
Chapter Nineteen
The atmosphere of the room shifted so quickly it left Rafe stunned.
In the beginning, when he first got into the scene, he’d had a few subs use their safeword. But that was back before he’d learned to read their body language, their breathing and their eyes.
He was wiser now. He understood limits and how to ride the boundaries of pleasure/pain to make them beg for more. Every ounce of his experience told him he hadn’t crossed any lines here. Up until a second ago, Hop had been open and malleable.
And yet, Hop refused a command. The unexpected shock of it left Rafe at a loss. He didn’t enjoy losing his faculties.
All those times before, the safeword had never felt like a gut punch.
It did now.
He rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest as he took a step away from Hop. It was only years of practice that kept him from reaching out when his instinct screamed at him to bind Hop any way he could.
He wanted to say sorry, but for what? He had no idea what had gone wrong and was too proud to admit it. So he just stood there, heart like a lead pendulum ticking down the moments of silence.
Hop retreated—all his magnetic openness shuttered in an instant. His spine stiffened and he avoided eye contact.
It was as if they’d gone back in time. Hop reverted to his cocky stance, all temper and sarcasm. There was none of the softness Rafe had found, none of the vulnerability.