Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

a ferocious kiss designed to blow the top of his head off and Patrick"s enormous cock jammed hard up against his.

After years of ignoring it, telling himself not to look, not to stare and definitely not to touch, he was stupidly giddy with the prospect of being able to reach between their bodies and wrap his hand around Patrick"s cock. Patrick"s hands on his ass were grinding them so tightly together, though, Brandon couldn"t figure out how exactly to get his hands on Patrick. Then Patrick tore his mouth away and stepped back.

Brandon wanted to reach out, to shout his denial at the loss of contact, but stopped himself. He couldn"t pressure Patrick, no matter how the need beat at him. He had to let Patrick set the pace, even if Brandon wanted to fall to his knees and beg.

Come to that, if he were to fall to his knees in front of Patrick, there were a few things he"d like to do while he was down there.

When Patrick"s hands went to his shorts and started to pull them down, Brandon stopped breathing. His eyes devoured every inch of skin as it was revealed, his brain racing to absorb the beauty, to memorize each detail and the response of his own body as it clenched with anticipation and need. Finally Patrick"s cock slid free of the confining cotton and Brandon"s eyes locked onto it, his brain came to a grinding halt.

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Samantha Wayland

Whoa.

Brandon knew his mouth hung open, but he couldn"t help it. He"d never seen anything like it. His gaze was riveted on the longest, thickest cock he"d ever seen.

Whoa.

Patrick was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders and a deep chest. Most tall men were lanky, but Patrick carried thick-muscled strength through his shoulders and down his flanks, across his tightly ridged belly and into his thighs. He was just a really big, strong man. And he had the big, thick cock to go with it.

Glancing up, he watched Patrick pay a whole lot of attention to carefully folding and throwing his shorts onto the chair, his hands busy, his eyes intent on his task and generally doing anything he could to not look at him. There were large red spots on his cheeks.

He was embarrassed?

Patrick moved forward slowly, turning so that his massive erection bumped against Brandon"s. Brandon was grateful they both ignored it when he made a weird gurgling sound.

Christ, he couldn"t resist. As if drawn by a magnet, he brought his hand up and curled his fingers around the long, thick shaft. Brandon wasn"t a small guy and he didn"t have small hands, but he almost couldn"t close the circle of his fingers around Patrick"s cock. Even then, the grip was tight and covered remarkably little of the length.

His other hand enfolded the rest before he dragged his palm up and over the head.

“Sweet fucking Jesus, Patrick.”

Patrick face reddened further, the deep color moving into his brow and neck.

“What?”

“I thought… I mean, I"d guessed that you"d be… I"d seen enough in the locker room, but I never…” Fuckin’ A. He forced himself to stop babbling and tried to rein in his thoughts. He"d never been fixated on size, but Patrick"s considerable…ness…had scrambled his brains. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “So much for the Irish curse, huh?”

Patrick"s face flamed bright red.

Brandon couldn"t contain his laughter even as he continued to run his hands up and over the curseless member in question. “Why the hell are you embarrassed? Most men would be elated. Hell, most men would be taking out an ad on the front page of The Boston Globe.”

Patrick looked down his body, his brows drawn together as he stared at Brandon"s hands wrapped around his cock. His self-conscious shrug might have been the single most endearing thing he"d ever done. “It"s not all it"s cracked up to be.”

“It"s not?” Brandon asked as he tightened his grip and stroked Patrick hand-over-hand again, relishing the reactions skittering across Patrick"s expressive face, pleased that embarrassment was giving way to arousal.

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Destiny Calls

It took Patrick a moment to gather enough breath to answer. “Some women can"t…um…enjoy…I can hurt them. I bump against the end of their vagina, against their cervix, and that can hurt. They don"t know that their bodies can stretch to accommodate me if they try. If I go slowly. I"m always careful, I try to explain, but some won"t even let me come near them once they"ve seen it.” He stopped stroking Patrick, stunned, and searched his face. “Really? ”

“Really,” Patrick said.

“Whatever happened to size mattering?” Brandon asked, half joking and wondering about the resignation in Patrick"s tone.

Patrick"s huff of laughter was tinged with bitterness. “Only so much, apparently.” There were shadows lurking in Patrick"s eyes. Some silly woman had hurt him and it pissed Brandon off. “What about Destiny? She doesn"t seem to mind.” At the mention of Destiny"s name, coupled with another strong pull on his shaft, Patrick"s head fell back. He moaned and laughed at the same time. “She doesn"t mind.

She"s used to me and, actually, she sometimes likes it when I bump her cervix. God, Bran,” he said on a long groan as Brandon continued his torment, “you should see her.

It makes her wild. Always has.”

Brandon hoped to see Destiny like that soon. Very soon. Then he imagined himself stretching to accommodate Patrick and his breath hissed out between his teeth. He couldn"t wait. He wanted it now.

He tugged Patrick once, hard, to get his attention. Patrick"s head came up and their eyes met. “For what it"s worth, you won"t scare me away either.” Patrick stared down into Brandon"s eyes. “Good.”

Patrick"s heart galloped in his chest, his lingering embarrassment lost to the shining promise in Bran"s eyes. His hands were doing incredible things, pulling and tugging, sliding and gripping. Patrick"s skin felt tight, his entire body throbbed.

His always active imagination was in overdrive, thinking of all he wanted to do. To try. Of all the variations of lovemaking