Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Then it was on. Liam rose onto his toes, lifted a leg, and began to dance. Tate stared, completely mesmerized by the complicated twists, leaps, and tricks. He understood nothing about dance technique, yet somehow, he knew every move and pose, and every pose was perfect. Liam would accept nothing less.
He was stunning. As the minutes passed, Tate was transported back ten years to the time he first realized he was attracted to the same sex. It’d been a dancer back then too. He hadn’t accepted it that day. Hadn’t understood it was inevitable. He’d had no control over who his body wanted back then, just as he had no control over this intense attraction to Liam.
He understood himself now, ten years later. His desires made sense, and he’d embraced them. Owned them.
Have you?
Spying on Liam from his car like a Peeping Tom instead of going inside didn’t scream self-acceptance. Neither did hiding his sexuality from the entire world.
Liam arched into an impressive back bend with one leg in the air and one on the ground before spinning into a complicated twirl that tested his balance. He didn’t bobble once. Then he kicked his leg so high his knee reached his ear before bending forward, giving Tate a prime view of his mouth-watering ass in those fucking tights.
Tate clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. He itched to barge in there, tear the ass-hugging material off Liam, bend him over, and—
“Fuck it.”
He opened the car door and surged into the early afternoon warmth. He powered toward the building after slamming the truck door so hard the whole vehicle rocked. Liam must have noticed him because he was already on his way to the hideous seventies locker room by the time Tate made it inside.
It felt as though he was walking with a damn brick in his pants. As soon as they were surrounded by old, beige tiles, Liam closed the locker room door and turned the deadbolt. He made eye contact, ensuring Tate understood they had complete privacy and security.
Sexy and considerate.
“I only have fifteen minutes,” Tate said. If he hadn’t been a coward, he could have had another twenty to do with Liam as he pleased. But then, he wouldn’t have had the pleasure of the private dance.
Liam pouted. “Guess we better get to work then, huh? Too bad we don’t have longer. The drive here gave me plenty of time to think about what I wanted you to do to me.”
“Next time,” Tate said as he crowded Liam against the wall.
One perfect eyebrow rose on Liam’s gorgeous face.
Yeah, he got it. He’d just committed to another hookup. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about right then, but he wouldn’t deny it either.
Instead of talking, he cupped the bulge, trying to burst through Liam’s tights. It was hot, hard, and so fucking tempting. “You put these on to fuck with me, didn’t you.”
Liam’s head hit the wall. “Ah, I, no… I always wear them when I da… oh shit.”
Tate squeezed him. “You knew exactly what they would do to me.” He rubbed up and down the outside of the tights, alternating the pressure.
Liam’s pupils blew wide. “I… oh fuck, you’re a sadist. I thought you needed some motivation to come inside. Worked, didn’t it?”
“Much as I’d love to come inside, we don’t have time for that today. Get these fucking tights off. I want to see your pretty cock.”
A smug grin curled Liam’s lips. “You think my cock is pretty?”
“I think all of you is pretty.” He’d never been one for compliments and didn’t care what the guys he fucked thought of him, but seeing the mix of happiness and desire all over Liam's face as he praised the man’s cock might have him rethinking that policy.
“God,” Liam whispered. His hands shook as they went to the waistband of his tights. He wiggled, shimmying them over his slender hips and round ass. The damn things were so pasted to his skin that his dick sling-shotted out once free.
Tate tore at the button on his jeans. He shoved them over his ass, hissing when his dick popped out. Liam reached for him, but he batted the other man’s hand away.
“Mine,” he said with a growl as he thrust his shaft against Liam’s and wrapped his hand around both of them. Even dry as the desert, the slide of Liam’s cock against his caused a full-body jolt of pleasure.
“Fuck, I love your hands,” Liam said, panting as his own hands latched onto Tate’s waist.
He snorted. “They’re beat to shit. Covered in scars and calluses.” He stroked them with a light fist.
Liam moaned. “Yes, exactly. Feels out of this world on my soft dick.”
“Ain’t nothing soft about this dick,” Tate said, increasing the pressure.
Liam’s chuckle turned into a gasp. “Y-you know what I mean.”