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

hands up the insides of Rich’s legs, pausing occasionally to rub a particularly thick bunch of scar tissue. Instead of cringing, Rich relaxed into each touch. He hadn’t thought anyone would do this to him, for him, not without a lot of money changing hands first and he wasn’t ever going to be that desperate. When Chris cupped his balls tenderly in one hand while sliding a finger into Rich’s cleft, teasing softly over his hole, Rich was barely able to hold back. Chris pressed harder against Rich’s opening and dragged his tongue up Rich’s dick.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, honey. Do it.” He latched back onto Rich’s crown and sucked harder than before, rubbing the ball of his piercing down Rich’s length. Rich thought he was going to lose his mind and his head would surely blow right off his neck.

“Chris, I don’t—” Rich gasped as Chris slammed down on his cock, burying the tip in his throat. “Ahh! Fuck!” Chris swallowed, his muscles constricting around Rich’s cockhead in a mind-melting manner. He shouted as he gripped Chris’ shoulders and shoved his hips up, forcing his dick in just that much deeper. He felt Chris’ rumble of approval all the way up his shaft and into his tightly drawn-up balls. Rich clutched at Chris’ shirt, his shoulders, his ears then settled for the man’s bulging biceps as he started fucking his dick into Chris’ throat.

The slight burn of a finger entering his ass sent Rich screaming and catapulting into a climax so intense he was surprised he wasn’t literally turned inside out. Cum spewed from his slit in thick bursts that caused his gut to clench and his breath to stutter. His eyes closed and rolled back as he shoved into Chris’ willing mouth over and over. God, he was going to drown the man with cum, he was shooting so much. The last bit was more of a trickle than anything else, but it seemed to sap every drop of Rich’s energy with it. He twitched from head to toe when Chris released his softened cock with a loud slurp.

“More beautiful than I imagined,” Chris said in a raspy voice. “Just, let me—”

Rich grunted. The man could do whatever he wanted to after that, including— Rich pried his eyes open as his shirt was shoved up. He didn’t have the strength to protest Chris seeing more of his scars, and he couldn’t have spoken if his life depended on it, not with the vision in front of him—Chris kneeling, one hand working his dick furiously in strokes that looked painful. Rough, fast, and mostly dry, the sound of skin on skin made Rich wish he was hard again. He also wished he was able to sit up and take over for Chris, but he was utterly drained. Instead he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it from Chris’ hand, pulling it up until it rested under his arm pits.

“Yes, honey, show me how beautiful you are.” Chris cupped his own balls, his hand flying faster on his dick. He threw his head back and roared then quickly dropped his head forward to watch his cum splatter on Rich’s stomach, groin and thighs. “Fuck, yes! Rich!”

Rich slid one hand up to pinch at his nipple and the other down to spread Chris’ cum around. The smell of sex—he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, but the scent was an aphrodisiac of epic proportions. One of the biggest turn-ons ever, but nowhere near as erotic as Chris panting and leaning over him to lick the spunk from his skin.

Chapter Six

It didn’t surprise Chris one bit when, at about ten miles from McKinton, he saw a sheriff’s cruiser pulled over at the side of the road. Surprised him even less when the guy pulled a U-turn and followed him into town. Chris did grudgingly give him credit for two things—not blaring the lights and sirens, and not being a dickhead and driving too close to Chris’ tail. Other than that, though, he pretty much wanted to kick the guy’s ass.

Not that Laine—if it was Laine behind him, and he couldn’t figure why it’d be anyone else—had been rude on the phone. He’d been brisk, and sounded like he didn’t take crap from anyone, but he hadn’t been there for Rich, had he? After Rich had almost died helping him out. Rich, who seemed to think he’d lost everything, and who was afraid of seeing this man, who owed Rich everything. Chris realized he was growling and pressed his lips together to keep in any more Neanderthal sounds. Next he’d be thumping his chest and yelling, Mine! Ugh!

Chris cast a quick glance at Rich, sleeping in the passenger seat. Chris had offered him the bed, which was the couch when tucked away, but Rich had protested that he wasn’t tired. Chris had seen a flicker of fear in the man’s dark eyes and had let the subject drop, carrying on with lewd jokes as if he hadn’t noticed. Rich had been alone for a year, and he was scared to be alone, what kind of new hell was that?

Not new for Rich. Chris glimpsed dark lashes and soft parted lips that he’d still yet to have a taste of and knew there was something about this man that drew him like none had before. And while he wouldn’t dare to scoff at his mother’s predictions, because really they were entirely too accurate most of the time, he didn’t believe in love at first sight. Infatuation, sure, the promise of love, definitely, but he truly believed it took time and knowledge of one another for love to develop. He ignored the niggling voice in his head that sounded a lot like his mom telling him he knew a hell of a lot about Rich Montoya. Like his mom would ever say hell.

Chris caught sight of a motel in McKinton, and a nice homey Main Street—a requisite