Of courseI beat him there, though. What the fuck had I been thinking? The gym I’d been at was only ten minutes from his house and he’d said half an hour, so by the time Andy pulled into his driveway next to my car, I’d had plenty of time to remember why I’d been staying away in the first place.
Andy was dangerous.
My lips twitched, because okay, maybe the cutesy Santa-sleigh setup he had on his lawn and the candy cane infested wreath on his teal door didn’t exactly scream “danger,” but my point still stood. I mean, he wasn’t even technically that hot, but it was still like he was some kind of drug that hooked you from the first hit, and withdrawals were a bitch. Case in point? The last three days. So setting myself up to have to go through anactualwithdrawal later—like, a permanent one, when he really did finally tell me to fuck off—was just flat out dumb.
But I mean, Ihadpromised to blow him, and what, like I was going to take off as he was getting out of his car? That really would be a dick move.
Besides, fuck. Iwantedto blow him.
Okay, settled. I was blowing him.
I jumped out of the car, only remembering as I pocketed my keys that I’d rushed out of the house without doing my face, probably could have used a touchup to my manscaping, and was dressed in some old track pants and a t-shirt that I normally didn’t go out in public in.
Well… fuck. Way to sell him on giving me another chance.
“You forgot your coat again,” Andy said, frowning at me as he came around to the driver’s side of my car when I got out instead of heading straight to his door to wait for me.
And double fuck. Since when had I liked being frowned at? I could tell it wasn't about how sloppy I looked, either. Dude was obsessed with coats for some reason. Shit, my stomach was suddenly jumping so hard I might end up sick.
“Sorry,” I blurted out as he reached me. “I, uh… not just for the coat.”
Annnnnnd that’s where I stalled out. I was shit at apologies even at the best of times, but even I knew that one had been epically underwhelming. Not my fault, though. Why did I keep mistakenly thinking Andy was not hot? Every time he was actually right in front of me proved that wrong, and right now, I was so busy fucking staring at him again that I got tongue-tied. Then he put his hands on me—just rubbing my arms to warm them up like he had the time before—and I made an embarrassing do-me-Daddy sound.
Couldn’t help it, and couldn’t even be all that embarrassed about it when it made his frown turn into a slow, sexy smile that set off more of that squirrelly fluttering in my stomach that I wasn’t used to. I wasn’t used to any of this, though. Being tongue-tied wasn’t like me. Getting jumpy about a simple hookup wasn’t like me. Shit,nothingabout how I acted around Andy was really like me… so why the hell did I like it so much?
“Come inside and tell me what happened,” he said, pulling me a little closer and staring down at me like he was stupidly happy to see me instead of pissed about what a dick I’d been the last three days, like he should have been.
“Yeah,” I said, straight-up not really listening as I leaned in and inhaled him like the addict I already was.
Was he going to kiss me?
He should definitely kiss me.
I mean, I’d kisshim, but I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could actually be this chill after I’d gone dark on him like that, so maybe it would be better if he was the one who started things up, you know?
“Coming?” he asked, giving me a hot look that made me want to beg him to make me, but then what he’d said just before that—“tell me what happened”—finally registered.
Shit.
Shocker: I’d been so focused on my plan to blow him that I hadn’t actually thought through how to deal with this transitional part between showing up at his house and getting his cock in my mouth. I mean, it made sense that Andy was going to want some kind of explanation for why I’d ghosted him, but fuck, what was I supposed to say? Then again, Nichol hadn’t been wrong about the way most guys reacted to my mouth, so maybe if I just got proactive, if Ididn’twait for him to be the one to start things up, we could just skip that part? I mean, he wasn’t going to expect me to talk with a mouthful of dick, right? Because I was good, but notthatgood.
Okay, settled. Solid plan. And when Andy slid his hands down my arms but kept hold of one of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine and then leading me into the house, my dick was definitely on board with the plan, too... because just like the last time I’d been here, the whole Andy-package—smile, voice, intoxicating scent, undivided attention, the feel of his hands on me,fuuuuuucccckkkkk—was already working its magic and starting to get me hard.
“Shoes on the shoe rack, baby,” Andy said the minute we got inside.
I automatically started to toe them off, but then froze. Fuck. He was doing it again. Making it way too fucking easy to kind of zone out and just follow his lead, let him take charge the way he had when we’d done that Daddy thing and then get sucked into the illusion that he actually wanted to take care of me or whatever.
And since when had I ever wantedthat?
Well, okay, itdidsound really fucking nice, actually, even if that wasn’t how shit actually worked in life. If I was honest, though, what I wanted to do was let it happen. Do exactly whatever he told me to, starting with taking my shoes off and hopefully ending in a cum shower... but what Ineededto do was hurry up and blow him, then leave before he could go all Daddy on me and pull another “it’s all about you, baby” thing that fucked with my head again.
I didn’tactuallywant a Daddy, but the way Andy got so into it had kind of made me forget that fact last time, but even though he clearly had his shit way more together than I did, I had to keep in mind that he was just twenty-one.
No, wait. I had to keep in mind that I didn’twantit, that was the main thing. Not a Daddy; not the whole relationship-ish, long-term, Scott-type thing that getting addicted to one guy’s dick put you at risk for; and definitely not the inevitable shititude when it all crashed and burned after you’d actually started to get used to it.
And even if Ihadbeen interested—which would be dumb, so clearly I wasn’t—Andy wasn’t actually going to want to do all that Daddy shit full-time IRL. It was just a hot role play. One that he was really fucking good at, but still.
“Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to me after hanging his coat in an honest-to-God coat closet.
