{"id":255136,"date":"2026-07-13T04:04:15","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T01:04:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/built-to-heal-you-phoenix-black\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T04:04:15","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T01:04:15","slug":"built-to-heal-you-phoenix-black","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/built-to-heal-you-phoenix-black\/","title":{"rendered":"Built To Heal You – Phoenix Black"},"content":{"rendered":"
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I was leaking steadily into his mouth now and as he swallowed around me and I felt the edges of myself start to fray. \u201cOwen\u2014\u201d My voice cracked. \u201cI\u2019m\u2026 mierda\u2026I\u2019m close\u2014\u201d He pulled off, his chin wet, his eyes dark. \u201cNot yet.\u201d He climbed back onto the sofa, straddling one of my thighs this time, his jeans still on but the hard length of him pressing insistently against my leg through the denim.<\/p>\n

He rocked once, grinding down, until we both groaned. My trembling fingers reached for his fly trying to work the button and zipper down. He helped me, shoving denim and briefs down just enough to free himself. His cock sprang free between us, all thick, flushed, and already slick. The weight of it in my palm felt like a gift I didn\u2019t deserve. I stroked him with firm and deliberate strokes like he had done for me, watching his face the whole time.<\/p>\n

His mouth fell open and his nostrils flared as his breathing sped up. \u201cJesus, yeah, just like that.\u201d His lips found mine as we found a rhythm, hands sliding, foreheads pressed together, trading the same hot air. His hips rolled into my fist; mine lifted into his. Sweat slicked our skin where we touched. The leather creaked under us as we moved. The room smelled like sex, Malbec, chimichurri and him. I dragged my thumb over his slit, spreading the slickness collecting there.<\/p>\n

He shuddered, biting his own lip hard enough to leave a mark. \u201cCruz,\u201d he breathed, \u201cyou feel so fucking good.\u201d I kissed him then, messy and desperate, tasting myself on his tongue. He moaned into my mouth, hand speeding up on me, grip tightening just right. We were both close now, teetering. His free hand found my neck, thumb stroking over my pulse point like he was measuring how fast he was wrecking me.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome with me,\u201d he whispered against my lips. \u201cLet go, Cruz. I\u2019ve got you.\u201d That did it. The coil in my gut snapped. I came with a choked cry, streaming over his fist, shooting hot across both our stomachs and chests. The sight of my release on his skin tipped him over. He groaned my name, low and wrecked, and then he was coming too, thick stripes painting my abs, mixing with mine. We stayed like that, panting, foreheads pressed together, hands still loosely curled around each other as the aftershocks rolled through.<\/p>\n

As our breaths calmed, he kissed me again. Slow this time, one side of my mouth, then the other. Painfully tender. Like a soft punctuation to what we’d just shared. \u201cYou okay?\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n

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No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Cover Design by KellaDesign 1kitap1.com\/en Contents 1. The Butcher’s Bill 2. The New Guy 3. The Collapse 4. Damage Control 5. Echoes 6. The Fixer 7. Green Sludge 8.<\/p>\n

Seen 9. You Broke Me 10. The Morning After 11. Sanctuary 12. Legacy 13. Fury & Ice 14. Phantom Pain 15. Captain 16. Hurricane 17. Breaking Storm 18. Sunshine 19. Epilogue About the author Also by 1kitap1.com\/en T Chapter 1 The Butcher’s Bill Cruz HE FIRST THING YOU lose when an exquisite pain hits you isn’t your breath. It’s the ability to care that you can’t breathe. I sat on the far bench in the visiting team’s locker room, my head bowed, my forearms resting on my thighs.<\/p>\n

Around me, the Florida Fury celebrated like they\u2019d just won the World Cup, not a barely there, mud-soaked victory against a mid-tier team in Atlanta. “Montoya! You see that hit?” I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. If I moved my neck, the fire in my left shoulder would flare from a dull roar to a blinding scream.<\/p>\n

“Yeah,” I grunted, the word scraping out of my throat like gravel. “Saw it. I was there.” The enthusiastic clap of Rocco’s hand on my good shoulder reverberated through my entire body and almost made me throw up. Rocco’s idea of affection always manifested in concussion-grade force. “Beautiful, man,” Rocco boomed, his voice echoing off the tile. “That turnover at the breakdown? Savage. You are a scary bastard when you want to be.” Beautiful. Savage. Scary. I focused on my breathing. In for four.<\/p>\n

Hold for four. Out for four. It was the only way to keep the nausea at bay. My left arm hung uselessly at my side, a dead weight of throbbing nerve endings. I needed to get my jersey off, but the mere thought of lifting my arm made my vision swim. “Drinks on the Captain tonight!”<\/p>\n

someone shouted. “Bus leaves in twenty!” “I’m out,” I said, finally lifting my head. Rocco frowned, a beer already in his hand.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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