Read Nischal [leopard spots 9] for Free Online Page A

that Preston was having emergency surgery while Paul had been out partying with some friends.
    They were close, and Preston felt as if part of himself were gone, but he couldn’t read his brother’s mind or any of that other rumoured twin stuff he’d heard of. He just knew that Paul had gone to see snow leopards in a small southern town over a year ago, and he’d never returned. Preston had been waiting for him, because Paul had left him a voicemail and had sounded despondent over another man dumping him.
    At first Preston had thought Paul had just taken off, but Paul wasn’t like that. By the time he was allowed to file a missing persons report, he had known something was terribly wrong. No one had believed him, except a few of Paul’s closest friends.
    Preston shook his head and nearly fell over. He was definitely dizzy, and weirdly aroused. He snorted and pushed away thoughts about how he’d had to beg the cops in that town to check out the place where Paul had gone missing. He didn’t want to think about the blood they’d found or, well, anything right then.
    Preston looked at the key card in his hand again. Sweat dripped down his brow and into his eyes. “Shit.” He swiped at his forehead then rubbed his eyes, and almost-clear vision allowed him to make it up the stairs to the door with his room number on it.
    Once he got inside the room, he winced at the stale smell of it. Feet and cigarettes, that seemed to be the awesome combination. Preston was just going to have to deal with it. He was beat, and just as Agent De la Garza had promised, his bags were waiting for him on the bed. She could have recommended a better place, but he told himself to quit bitching. He was about broke and the government was paying for the room.
    Still, the acrid scent was too strong. He propped the door open with the metal anti-lock hook on it. Then he turned the AC temperature setting down as low as he could get it. He’d take a quick shower then lock the door and sleep for twelve hours or so. No one was going to bother him. Not unless Suraj’s or Yangani’s ghost came by, if such a thing were possible.
    The lukewarm water had a funky smell to it too, but considering that he smelt like a sweaty armpit, Preston didn’t care. He opened the motel soap and began scrubbing at his skin. He was still sore, but not horribly so. Not enough to deter his cock when he began soaping up his balls.
    How long had it been since he’d got off? Preston couldn’t remember. That in itself told him it’d been too long. He plucked the washcloth off the small shelf on the shower wall and got it wet. There was no rush—he was going to enjoy beating off.
    Preston started by scrubbing his body clean with the soapy cloth. He saved his most sensitive parts for last. The first scrape of that nubby material over his asshole made Preston’s legs quiver and his cock leap.
    “Fuck,” he dragged out in a guttural voice that made his throat ache. Preston tipped his head up and opened his mouth. He let water run into it and swallowed some down. It helped his parched, sore throat tissues, and he went back to rubbing the washcloth over his pucker.
    He brought his other hand around to fondle his balls. Preston sighed and closed his eyes as he touched himself. His nipples hardened and ached for some pressure, but he couldn’t do anything about them, not when it felt so good to palm his nuts and press a finger to his hole.
    Preston hitched one leg up onto the hand bar on the wall. He arched his back and slid a finger into his ass. His breath stuttered at the small invasion. It’d been too long, too long. Even just that made him want to come.
    His body warmed under the onslaught of arousal. His cock rose heavy and full to curve up against his belly. Preston wished he had a thick dildo, one with the balls built onto it. Maybe one of those kinds he could stick to the bathroom tiles and fuck himself into oblivion on…
    “Yeah, fuck yeah,” he ground out as he