Wait Until Dawn by Bailey Bradford (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📗

knew was going to soak through his boxers and jeans. Rather than feeling flattered, he was angry. That too-familiar emotion that always seemed to be simmering just below the surface of his consciousness began to boil over. What the fuck kind of game was Chris playing? There was no way the guy could be attracted to him, not with the hideous scar on his face, and the skeletal body. Yeah, Chris had looked like he was turned on outside, but it could be he got his kicks from playing the savior or toying with someone he thought could use a pity fuck. Rich had no illusion about his looks, not anymore.

“What?” Rich snarled when Chris continued to visually devour his package.

Chris finally looked at him and leered as he climbed up through the passenger door. Rich started to get up but found himself pressed back into the seat by one of Chris’ very large hands. Tattooed hands, Rich noted as he glared at the offending appendage splayed open against his chest. What looked like rings were tattooed around Chris’s index and middle fingers.

“Where are you going?”

Rich stopped trying to figure out what the tattoos were supposed to be and looked up until his gaze clashed with Chris’. The mocking expression he expected to see wasn’t there, only confusion tinged with desperation.

“You don’t trust me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Rich answered anyway. “No. I don’t even know you, and you’re practically salivating all over my cock.”

Chris slid his hand slowly down the middle of Rich’s chest, then further down his stomach. Rich sucked in a startled breath when that big hand pressed harder against his concave belly before smoothing down to cup his erection.

“How could I not look at this?” Chris squeezed lightly, and Rich moaned as another jet of wet heat spat from his slit. Chris bent down until his nose was practically touching Rich’s. “You can’t tell me a handsome guy like yourself hasn’t had plenty of one-offs in clubs with men you’ve barely spoken to.”

Rich’s cock might have stayed hard, might have even pushed up into that warm hand, but the rest of him recoiled. Chris was playing him, probably thinking the scared freak would be desperate for it. He wasn’t far off—Rich hadn’t been touched in so long, hadn’t even got hard often. This was the longest time he’d maintained an erection since before he’d got out of the hospital. Still, he had his pride, or what was left of it. He wasn’t going to be anybody’s pity fuck.

“Get your hand off me and let me out.” Rich didn’t know if the venom in his voice was his own or a residual of the invader. It sounded hateful and angry enough, and it scared him. He didn’t want to be that sort of person, the one who hated everyone and everything, and he for damn sure didn’t want to be under the influence of something…other.

Chris studied him intently, his light eyes never veering from Rich’s dark ones. Rich wished he knew what the man was looking for, what he found that made him nod slightly and hum under his breath. Chris’ hand swept up his torso, and Rich tried not to whimper in disappointment. It’s just a game to him. Rich repeated the thought, but his dick was not agreeing with him. It ached for a more personal touch, the stretch of warm, soft lips and a wet tongue, or a tight hole to shove into. Even Chris’ big fist stroking the sensitive flesh would be more than Rich had felt in a year, and he craved it suddenly and intensely. Even if it was some sort of game, why couldn’t he go along with it, get off with someone who was obviously willing for whatever reason? Chris was right—Rich had fucked men whose names he didn’t know and didn’t care to. They’d been willing bodies and this wouldn’t be any different.

Then Chris had to go fuck it all up.

“You think this means you aren’t attractive?” Chris trailed a finger over the scar on Rich’s face as he cringed and tried to escape the touch.

Rich felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs constricting as panic replaced his anger. “D-don’t—” When he tried to jerk his head away he found his face caught by Chris’ other hand, forcing him to hold still as Chris traced the scar again.

“You do,” Chris murmured. “Silly, sexy man.” He dipped his head to the side, nuzzling the left side of Rich’s face. The scratchy feel of stubble rasping over Rich’s clean shaven skin tore a moan from Rich even as he started to struggle. Chris huffed out an annoyed sound, or maybe it was amused, then Rich felt the slick wet tip of Chris’ tongue tracing over the ruined flesh.

Rich froze, so shocked he couldn’t move. The hands framing his face slid up into his hair, tipping his head back.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Those words from Chris broke the spell that held Rich immobile. He knew what he looked like.

His anger returned, a bright, hot ball bursting in his belly, flowing through him like an eruption of lava. Rich slammed his hands against Chris’ massive chest and managed to nudge him back an inch or two.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Rich scuttled back in the chair, trying to get both legs in the seat so he could crawl over the back of it and get out, away, gone before this man ripped him apart inside with mocking words coated in a sincere voice. He might be something close to desperate to feel another man’s touch, but he wouldn’t be anyone’s fool. Rich got his heels in the seat and pushed up as Chris reached for him. Rich swung out and caught the man in the ribs with a solid right. Chris merely grunted while pain shot up Rich’s hand to his elbow.

“That’s enough,” Chris growled as he caught Rich’s wrists and pinned them to the armrests. Rich