Page 81 of Brace and Chase

“No, the fun part will be when I get to come in your mouth, you infuriating man.” Okay, maybe the shouting is too much, but his smirk tells me he doesn’t mind it. Hell, he might even like it.

He goes back in, sucks longer this time, even bobs his head twice, but it’s the same story. All I can do is whine and shout and complain while he brings me right to the brink then pulls me back, again and again and again until I’m a writhing mess on the bed.

My damn muscles hurt worse than after a workout for fuck’s sake.

“Nik,” I whisper, because I don’t have the energy for more. “Please,” I beg, finally caving.

“Was that so hard?” he asks, clearly smug.

“Oh, fuck—” The curse gets lodged in my mouth when he takes more of me than he has and sucks, bobs, and this time he doesn’t stop even after I warn, “Coming,” through gritted teeth.

I watch his eyes widen as I feel the first spurt of my spend come out of me. Tingles race down my legs, up my torso, and all the way to my ears and fingertips. I feel like I was just plugged into a car battery and lit all the way up.

It seems to go on, and on, and on.

When it’s finally over, I lie there, sweaty again, the sheets a mess under me thanks to how hard I fisted them and how much I moved around.

But the only thing that matters in that moment is the hum of deep satisfaction coursing through my body.

If this is what sex with another man feels like, they should all try it.

TWENTY-SEVEN

NIK

I watchCharlie’s eyes close slowly, his mouth stretched into a serene smile, as I swallow his come and it tastes... fine.

Nothing to write home about. A bit bitter, yes, but it’s not awful.

I’ve tasted worse things, honestly. Like those insane Mexican, spicy chips Eagle gets at a special store.

But the thing about my first time giving a blow job that I will never forget, and the reason why I’m probably going to want to do it every day from now on, is the way the wordpleasecame out of Charlie’s mouth.

It was like a masterful symphony to my ears.

Then, the look of ecstasy when he finally spilled inside my mouth.

I did that.

I made him feel so good that he’s apparently needing a nap now.

“You awake?” I ask, my voice full of humor.

“Yeah,” he replies lazily, still not opening his eyes. “Just give me a minute and it’ll be your turn. Then I’m gonna need another shower thanks to your torture.”

“You loved it,” I cajole, and kiss his thigh because it’s right there. Then I pull up and sit next to his face. Reaching down, I cup his cheek upside down and just stare at him. He’s so handsome, his face almost pretty in its perfection. I realize I’ve never told him that, so I take advantage and tell him now.

He snorts. “I’m flattered,” he says. “My cousins have always told me I’m the ugly one of the bunch.

“Well, I’ve seen most of your cousins, I think, so...” I trail off, wanting to poke at him a little. His eyes open into slits and he gives me a glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean? And when have you seen them?” he demands.

“You always had a bunch of people who look like you at the NHL Awards, and they came to see you at the first game of the season,” I tell him patiently. “I assumed those people were your family.” Of course, he doesn’t need to know I remember being at the draft alone—my family was still back in Russia—with only Butcher there with me since he took pity on me being by my lonesome.

He, on the other hand, had about fifteen people there.

Is that where it started? The resentment? Could be, I suppose.

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