Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I nodded, too busy scarfing down my sandwich to verbally answer him. Niran leaned against the counter opposite me and pulled out his phone, typing rapidly on the expensive device.
Yeah… I was going to grow a crush on him. I could already sense it.
Fuck me. At this point, I was just a recipe for disaster.
1
Niran
TEN YEARS LATER
Whiskey was easier to swallow than the knowledge that I could never have the one person in this fucking world I was obsessed with.
He was always there. Always around. His scent suffocated me, but fuck, I never wanted to breathe again if it meant I got to inhale his intoxicating scent for the rest of my existence.
Bento Perez had been dropped into my hands as a mere young adult in need of a home. I’d been instructed to train him, toughen him up, and turn him into a cold-blooded soldier. And I’d accomplished that despite the fact that I had to have a drink before and after every planned interaction with him. Because that boy just had a fucking way of looking at me that drove me mad with desire for him.
I wasn’t capable of basic, normal human emotions. Love? Didn’t know what that was. Empathy? Didn’t have it. Remorse? Laughable idea. But obsession? Obsession for him? Fuck, I had that in spades.
But I couldn’t fucking touch him, goddammit it. Which was why I was sitting in my office pouring myself a drink while I waited on him to show up for his daily check-in with me. As the personal bodyguard to my boss’s husband, his schedule didn’t operate like ours. His life revolved around Anurak, and only when Anurak was with Rico, who was my boss, did Bento get to do his daily check-ins with me and get some training in.
Which meant when he did finally show up, he’d be wearing one of those tight fucking t-shirts that emphasized his bulging muscles and sweatpants that did nothing to hide the bulge of his dick. Normal security guards wore grey sweats and a gray shirt to train, but after two weeks of watching Bento train in those, I’d given him black sweats, thinking it’d help distract me from his dick imprint.
It fucking hadn’t.
A light knock sounded on my door just as I raised my glass to my lips. Quickly, I downed the contents, then called out for whoever was on the other side to come in, though I was pretty sure I knew who it was.
And I was right.
Bento pushed open the door, then stepped inside. I leaned back in my chair, doing my damnest not to ogle him because I was right, just as I always was. He was wearing the gray training shirt with a pair of black sweats, and he looked so goddamn good, I wanted to bend him over my desk and fuck him stupid. Fuck him until he was crying and begging me to stop, yet thrusting that perfect ass back on me because he also never wanted it to end.
“Anurak is with Rico,” he said as he stuffed his hands into pockets. “He’s had breakfast, and Rico will be keeping him for the day. So, I’ll do my workout, train, and then, I’ll get caught up on any paperwork I have.”
I nodded once. “Sounds like a plan. Still check in with Anurak throughout the day.”
He nodded. “Always. Is that it?”
I gestured to the door. “You’re dismissed.”
The moment he turned his back on me and reached for the door handle, my eyes locked in on his ass. Christ, it was a perfect ass. Perfectly round and firm. Every bit of Bento was firm. He’d honed his body to perfection. So much so that looking at him was the sweetest form of torture.
When he walked out, shutting my office door behind him with a barely audible click, I grabbed up my whiskey bottle and poured another shot.
It’d been my routine for the past ten fucking years, and it wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Either the alcohol or Bento was going to kill me. It was just a race to see which of them won.
I watched through the security monitors on my computer as Bento landed yet another soldier on his ass, easily flipping him over his back like the man weighed nothing. My cock was hard behind my slacks, but I wouldn’t give in to the temptation of unfastening my slacks and fisting my cock as I watched him.
For ten years, I’d resisted the temptation of jacking off while watching him. Didn’t mean he didn’t star in my fantasies when I got off in bed or in my shower, but I had not crossed the boundary of stroking myself while he was right in front of me. Rico had drilled morals into my skull for years since I lacked any of my own, and I wouldn’t break any of his moral codes now.