Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
My heart stutters. Shit. Is he drunk for real? “That’s such fuckin’ bullshit,” I argue. “She was sick, Lars. I’ve never seen an addict like your mom, and I’ve been around a lot of junkies. Your mother’s disease had progressed so far that she was blind to everything, even the damn sun. She loved you, Lars. Deep down, she loved you more than anything.”
“Was your mom always a junkie?” Lars asked, packing my guitar in its case.
I lit a joint, taking a haul. “Yes. I was born addicted. My mom’s been an addict since she was sixteen.”
“I thought your dad had rules about not being around addicts,” Lars said.
“He does. He didn’t realize she was a junkie when he got with her. She showed up with one of her friends, and my dad almost tripped over his tongue talking to her.”
“Your dad was giving her drugs while she was pregnant? Doesn’t she have to hide that shit from him now?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Nine months later, my dad got a call from child services informing him that he was a proud papa to a bouncing baby boy. He got my mom clean for four years, but I guess a junkie shouldn’t live with a smack dealer.”
“You’re lucky,” Lars whispered under his breath.
Shots fired. I lunged for him, pushed him to the ground, and climbed on top of him. “If you were anyone else, I’d pummel your fucking face.”
Lars winced and threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man?”
I leaned forward, pinning his arms. “I’m lucky because my mom’s been a junkie for most of my life? I’m lucky to live this way? I assure you, it wasn’t lucky. My dad is a fuckin’ monster who beats the hell out of anyone who looks at him the wrong way, even his own kid. Why do you think I practically live in this run-down shed? It’s not because I wanna be some emo kid. I’m in here, busting my ass with music to get the fuck out of this town and never look back. Do you think I’m lucky? Did you know that the first time someone talked to me was two years ago, when I was sixteen? You know what’s really lucky, Lars? The first person who ever bothered to see me is the same guy who doesn’t know me at all because he just called my pathetic existence lucky.”
I wasn’t sure what came over me, how the moment went from me wanting to tear his head off to my lips crashing down on his. But the second we kissed, my world lit on fire. I would burn the world and everyone in it to keep the feeling forever. Lars didn’t push me away. His head rose, and his tongue clashed with mine in desperate need.
Lars moaned as I pressed my hard dick against him. I moved my hands from his arms beneath his head, yanking his hair as he pulled mine. A hiss fell from my lips as Lars’ hand glided between us and into my sweatpants.
The friction of his hand on my dick was a bolt of lightning flowing from my head to my toes.
“Fuck,” I moaned, lost in the sensation.
I pulled away from him and rose, desperate for more. Lars’ eyes widened as my cock sprang free, pointing like an arrow. I’d known I was bisexual for a long time. I’d been with other guys. But I wasn’t sure about Lars. As much as I wanted him in every way, I wouldn’t risk everything we’d built for a quick fuck. “If we’re gonna do this, we do it. No half-ass bullshit. You better be sure you want it for real. I’m not dealing with you changing your mind in the morning.”
Lars leaned on his elbows and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve jerked off to you. I’ve wanted to fuck you for a while. Didn’t expect you to be so huge.”
His admission shocked me. “You into guys?”
“I’m about the connection.” Lars rose to his knees, his mouth less than an inch from my cock. His tongue flicked out, and he licked the pre-cum from the tip. “I don’t care about gender.”
I gazed down at Lars. Images of him choking on my dick bombarded my mind. “I, um, like it rough. I can go slow the first time, but I’m into violent sex.”
Lars laughed. “I’ve seen your porn stash. I’m well aware of the shit you like.” He rubs the back of his head, his cheeks turning pink. “I choke myself when I jerk off, but I can’t keep it going. I’ve thought about asking people I’ve been with, but I don’t trust them enough not to strangle me to death.”
Fuck!
I stepped away from him, heading to the small table by the mattress. I didn’t sleep in the shack, but I kept blankets and other things handy in case Lars or Trevor needed to crash. Pulling the drawer open, I took out the lube.