Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 by J.K. Hogan Read Free Book Online Page B

you?” Patrick husked. “You going to come for me? Just from playing with your tight little nipples. That is so fucking hot.” He kept up the continuous litany of dirty talk while he worked Rich into a mindless frenzy.
    Rich’s head thrashed from side to side as his balls drew up tight to his body and his skin started tingling. He was going to come. Why the fuck not? It was time to let go.
    “Look at your cock, dripping for me. So sexy.”
    “Fuuuuck.” Rich flailed, moaned, so on edge it hurt.
    “One day soon, when you’re not so stressed, I’m gonna fuck your sexy little ass into next week.” When he said it, he pinched hard on Rich’s nipples and latched onto the pulse point in his neck, sucking relentlessly.
    Overcome with sensation, Rich did indeed lose it. His back arched up off the couch, and he screamed Patrick’s name. As the jets of hot cum exploded from him, Patrick let go of his nipples and grabbed his dick, stroking him through the rest of his shuddering climax.
    Rich had never come so hard in his life, and now he was half-asleep, locked inside his groggy mind by the time he came down from wherever he’d been floating. He bonelessly slid down until he lay long ways on the couch with his eyes closed. Vaguely hearing Patrick walk away, he must have drifted, because he was startled when the man wiped him down with a warm, wet cloth, and tucked him back into his pants. Rich gazed up at Patrick through barely open lids. His Irishman was flushed, but he wore a self-satisfied smirk. As he looked down at Rich, his expression changed to one that almost resembled…fondness.
    “Lord, but you’re a stunner when you’re not hiding behind all that attitude, Mr. Langston.”
    Rich could only grunt in answer, too tired to even think. “What about you?” he slurred, eyeing the man’s huge, hard bulge warily. Sure, he wanted a handful of that, but even now, he was losing the battle with sleep.
    Patrick chuckled. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I’ll take a rain check…from your pretty ass,” he said with a wink.
    Rich huffed out a laugh, smiled sleepily, and closed his eyes again. As he finally succumbed to sleep, he could have sworn he felt rough hands gently tucking a blanket over him.

Chapter Seven
    Patrick wondered how Rich was going to act towards him on ‘the morning after,’ as he maneuvered the lorry through the streets of the man’s neighborhood. He had a feeling the only reason he’d broken through Rich’s shell last night had been his sheer exhaustion. It was okay. Patrick was interested now, so he could deal with a little feistiness. The rest, he’d work out—preferably in bed.
    Once at Rich’s house, Patrick rang the doorbell and greeted him with a mock bow. “Your carriage awaits, sir.”
    Rich came to the door looking impeccable as always, dressed in khaki cargo pants that could have still had the tags on them for all they were broken in, and a Batman T-shirt that was probably two-hundred-dollar vintage. His hair was gelled into artfully messy perfection, and his skin shone like he was just fresh from the shower. Patrick’s neglected cock tried to sit up and beg for attention.
    Upon seeing Patrick’s antics, Rich’s high cheekbones tinged pink and his lips lifted into a ghost of a smile, before his customary scowl fell into place. “It’s about time,” he said.
    “Oh, keep your knickers on, Sally,” Patrick teased, enjoying the sight of the sweet blush turning into an angry flush before his eyes. How he enjoyed riling Rich up.
    Once they were settled in the truck and on their way, Patrick couldn’t resist stirring the pot of this reluctant truce they’d cooked up. “So when did you figure out you were gay?”
    Rich’s glare snapped to him so fast he was surprised the man’s retinas hadn’t detached. Patrick could see the rote denial hovering over Rich’s expression.
    “And don’t you dare try to say you aren’t, when I was wiping your cum off my hands last