Putting Out for a Hero (Villainous Things, #3)

by C. Rochelle

“Guys, I can’t feel my nuts. I think my suit might have shrunk in the wash or something.”

Little did they know, all I ever wanted was to stick my dick in my rival’s tight end.

“Mine,” he replied, still staring at me like he wanted to eat me alive. “I mean… she’s mine, yes. Daisy is.” He blinked rapidly before his gaze shifted to where his daughter sat on my shoulders. “For almost ten years now.”

I’m straight, but I’m just not thinking straight. Oh, no. What if my supersuit was so tight it cut off my air supply… Through my nuts?!

“Thanks for the tour, and for cutting me… cutting me FREE, I mean. And for showing me your hole. YOUR SWIMMING HOLE! Jesus Christ, I’m done. I’m fucking done. I’m just gonna go to my room now. Alone. So I can… be alone for… alone time. Jesus.” My beast was clawing to get out. I watched as this ridiculously stacked, awkward bundle of villainous sweetness adjusted his hard-on before spinning on his heel and fleeing the scene of his bi-awakening. I must have him.

There was no reason for me not to tell my gay brother and his gay mafia queen that I might like dick. Hell, the whole gay family would probably throw me a big gay party to celebrate me joining the rest of them on the apparently more exciting side of the playing field.

“You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Suarez. From the moment I first saw you, I wanted this. Wanted you.”

“Fuck you, Zion,” I spat, turning away from him to wrench open the door. “Mmm, I wish,” he crooned behind me. “Whenever you’re ready, beautiful.”

It looks like I’m kind of gay after all. Gay for lizard dick.

He tasted like how it felt to swim in the ocean on a perfect day back home—like pure sunshine mixed with skin and sweat.

There was nothing like running through the forest while only wearing a jockstrap to make you question your life choices.

Blood is thicker than murder. But murder doesn’t hurt.