Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Harder, Mark. Come on.” Isaiah wormed a hand between them, grabbing his cock.
“Don’t come yet,” Mark warned.
“Won’t. Oh God.” Isaiah’s face squished up with pleasure as he started stroking. “Too good. Fuck.”
“How does it feel? Tell me.” He wanted to know everything.
“So good. Feel so close to you. Love feeling you in me.”
“Yes.” Mark loved that, knowing that Isaiah felt the same closeness and connection as him. Dipping his head, he sought Isaiah’s mouth. And then he was the one moaning because this was so amazing. Isaiah tasted like hunger and desperation and need, need that only Mark could meet. And fuck, that was heady stuff.
Mark’s arms and thighs burned from holding the position but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Isaiah, his kiss, his tight embrace, his broken moans and gasps.
“Please. Please.”
“Gonna come for me?”
“Yes. Mark. Please.” Isaiah’s hand on his back shook.
“God, I love it when you beg.” Mark sped up his thrusts, instincts taking over now. “Want to make you come now. Get yourself there.”
“Harder. Hold me tighter.” Isaiah’s heels dug into Mark’s ass.
“Anything.” Anything. Mark would have given him anything in that moment. “Come for me. Wanna see you go.”
“Yes. Fuck.”
“Tell me. Tell me when you’re close,” Mark ordered.
“Now. Now.”
Mark growled, some new possessive part of him unfurling, making his hips slam forward faster, deeper, harder, Isaiah’s moans urging him on. Isaiah’s come splashed warm between them, and his body tightened around Mark’s cock, a new, unexpected level of friction. I did that. I made him come. One thrust. Another. And then Mark was coming too, body sagging against Isaiah’s. His breath came in harsh gasps, brain wiped clean like after a long, hard run, adrenaline surging. But behind the exhaustion and hormones was a sense of triumph and contentment, the same closeness that came whenever they shared this, a joy almost that took the rest of his breath away with its intensity.
“Oh. My. God. Fuck stars. I saw galaxies.” Isaiah rested his head on Mark’s shoulder. “Don’t drop me.”
“I’ve got you.” Mark gently untangled their bodies, moving Isaiah more fully onto the counter so that he could release his legs.
“What about you?” Isaiah touched his face, fingers gentle on Mark’s jaw. “You okay?”
“Stupendous. Feels like I just ran a 20k.” Mark kissed him lightly. “And stop worrying. Trust me.”
“I am. I just never want you to feel like we have to do that. Like I expect it.”
“I know.” Another kiss, this one longer. What he really loved about Isaiah was that it didn’t feel like they’d suddenly crossed some invisible threshold to a new level, one where they’d do this all the time. Maybe they would. Maybe they wouldn’t. They were still on this level, the one where they were building something together. Something real. Something that scared Mark. Trusting Isaiah when it came to sex was easy. Trusting him with his heart and his future was a whole different matter.
Chapter Eighteen
A brutal morning sun beat down on Isaiah’s neck and back as he worked on placing succulents for Lydia and Jane. Their yard was almost done, ready for basic maintenance now, with the Katz project due to start later in the week. He was busy, and it felt great, especially with Mark putting in such long hours on the base. Work was a great distraction, one he was grateful for.
Buzz. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. His father’s name flashed on the screen. Fuck. This was not the sort of distraction he needed. His father’s infrequent calls were never good news.
Still, he picked up, moving into the shade to take the call. “Hey, Dad. What country are you in today?”
“Belgium. I’m at a conference.” His father sounded relaxed, like he’d had a few drinks with dinner, and it did have to be close to bedtime in Europe. “How are you?”
“Fine. Hanging in there.” He was good at small talk with his dad, many years of practice not sharing the important stuff.
“Good. Good.” As he’d expected, his dad didn’t press for details. He doubted he could name any of Isaiah’s friends or even his favorite foods. And that thought made him feel weary. And old. But his father was continuing, “And how are the aunts? Holding up?”
“Yeah. I took the kids out to see them the other day. Aunt Cecily’s down, but that’s to be expected, right?”
“Of course. This was a tremendous tragedy for everyone. And that’s actually why I’m calling. Cecily is worried—a premonition she called it—about your case for the children. She’s afraid the other family will get custody, make it so she can’t visit.”
Isaiah was worried too, more about what the court would think than any action from Mark’s family, but he didn’t dare share that. While his father had no issues with Isaiah’s being gay, he would not be in favor of him being in a...whatever Mark wanted to call what they had going. His father had never been a big fan of Mark’s family to begin with. Too rich. Too snobby. Too much socialite stuff. If it wasn’t his research or stuffy academic functions, his father simply wasn’t very interested.