Tango (Satan Worshippers MC #3) Read Online T.O. Smith

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Satan Worshippers MC Series by T.O. Smith
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Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
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Still didn’t matter to me much though. I still guarded my boy personally, never letting him go anywhere alone. And while I knew that would bother most people, Gabriel thrived beneath my overbearing presence in his life. And when I wasn’t overbearing enough, he sought it out, coming to me and seeking my guidance, advice, or just love.

Even now as I watched him spar with Gidget in the ring, sweat running down his temples and pooling in his collarbone, he was happy despite being exhausted. He was able to focus and learn because I was here. I gave him the strength to accomplish things—the will to want to be more, to be better.

It was codependency at its finest, and I couldn’t give less of a fuck about how unhealthy it was.

Gabriel was under my skin. He was the blood in my veins, the nerves in my body. He was the reason I operated now. The reason I could think, could breathe, could feel. Just as I knew I was his reason for living. For continuing to push forward, to grow stronger, and never give up.

“Break,” Gidget grunted, dropping his arms. “Water.” I was already stepping forward, unscrewing the cap from the water bottle before Gidget got the word completely out. Gabriel walked over to me, his chest heaving, and took the water from me with a grateful, tired smile.

A glance at my watch told me he and Gidget had been at this for forty-five minutes now, which was more than enough time. Especially since Gabriel had worked out with me this morning—lifting weights and running on the treadmill.

“Gonna call it a day,” I told Gidget.

He nodded once and slid out of the ring, his bare feet hitting the floor below before he shoved his feet into his slides. “I’ll clean up in here,” he told me. “Your boy probably wants a shower.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement, handing me back the water. I screwed the lid back on before reaching forward and helping him out of the ring. I knew he could do it himself, but eh. Fuck it—he was mine to take care of. If I could avoid him lifting a finger… well, I was gonna damn well do it.

Grabbing his hand in mine once he had his slides on, I led him from the gym and straight to the stairs, his bottle of water dangling from my other hand. Gabriel tightened his hand around mine as we waded through the tables, some of the guys eating a late breakfast. Despite all of them smiling at him, being around the club members was still a little nerve-wracking.

He was getting better though. Slowly but surely, he was coming around. He was blooming, and I couldn’t wait to see what he was like when his petals fully opened. He would be fucking beautiful.

I’d do my damnest to make sure he received nothing but sunshine. And I would be the only person to water him. If a rain cloud even tried to come into his life, I’d rip it apart. A rain cloud could turn into a storm that could damage him. And like fuck was I allowing that to happen.

“Will you shower with me?” Gabriel asked as I pushed open our apartment door and led him inside.

I turned, arching a brow at him as I closed the door behind us. I’d been half-fucking-hard the entire time I’d been watching him spar with Gidget, and I wanted to be inside of him before he got his shower. Needed to. The urge to fill him up with my cum was like a pulsing, living, breathing thing inside of me.

“Got a better idea,” I rumbled as he stepped out of his slides, his eyes on his feet.

Those beautiful, gray eyes shot up to meet my blue ones at my words, and his blush made his freckles stand out against his skin.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice breathy.

I yanked him to me, making him crash against my chest, and my lips swallowed his gasp of surprise. Gabriel melted into me, his body molding to mine as if he were made just for me. I groaned deep from within my chest when he boldly slid his hands beneath my shirt, his palms sliding over my flat stomach and up to the light dusting of hair covering my chest.

When he tugged lightly on the stringy curls, I moaned his name, already backing him up toward the bed.

“Tango…” he whispered reverently—like my name was something to be worshipped. My cock throbbed in my sweatpants.

Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of how much my boy needed me. I was the air he breathed, and he was mine.

Tearing my mouth from his, I spun him around to face the bed. He shivered when I gripped the hem of his sweaty t-shirt and began to slide it up his torso until I could tug it over his head. It fluttered to the floor in a wrinkled, damp heap.


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