“Action.” That should be safe.
“I think Rufus has added everyJames Bondfilm in existence to the pile over time.”
“Sounds great.”
“Do you have a favourite?”
“I’ve only seen the newer ones.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Yeah. Soon.”
I hold my breath until I’m sure Kian has gone. We’re going to spend the afternoon watching a film together, wearing nothing but towels. I can handle this.
When I get to the sitting room, Kian has got the film ready to go. He’s also put drinks on the table, along with a bowl of popcorn and some grapes, orange segments, and sliced watermelon. He sits on one end of the sofa, his foot casually resting on the edge of the coffee table, tapping the remote control against his bent knee. His towel covers him up, but my thoughts go straight to what I’d see if it slipped.
He grins at me. “I didn’t know if you’d prefer healthy or unhealthy snacks.”
“I didn’t think there was this much food in.” I’d brought some ready meals, a loaf of bread, and some soup with me.
“Rufus and I went shopping before coming up here.”
The plate of fruit doesn’t look like one of Rufus’s food shops.
“Sit down.” Kian nods at the other end of the sofa.
I hold on to my towel as I sit. Kian presses Play, and I fix my stare on the TV.
In hindsight, aJames Bondfilm was probably the worst choice ever. Not only is the female lead beautifully sexy, but James Bond is also hot. It’s not so bad during the introduction. The action scenes are bearable, even though watching a ruggedly handsome man get scuffed up and sweaty sends a thrill down my spine. But the first sex scene? That’s torture.
Nothing is really on show except for bare backs and long legs, but my brain does a good job of filling in the blanks. As my cock hardens, I whimper and rearrange the towel. Then I make the biggest mistake of the afternoon. I take my gaze off the TV and glance at Kian.
He’s staring at me, one eyebrow cocked and a slight smirk on his lips. “I guess it’s sexy.”
My jaw drops.
He gestures at the TV. “This scene. I mean, it’s not something I’d get off on, but I can see why a guy who’s into women would.” He taps the remote against his lips. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet so we can watch.”
“I—” I fan my face and will my cock to soften. I glare at the TV screen.
The characters are kissing and moaning, and oh, fuck, the ache in my dick is unbearable. I clench my teeth and try not to let the groan building in my throat escape. I fail. I’ve watched this film a few times. I’ve never had this reaction before. There’s only one explanation for why this time is different, and he’s sitting next to me. Naked, except for a towel.
Kian pauses the film and half turns so he has one knee resting on the sofa. “Okay. You look super uncomfortable right now, so I’m just going to throw this out there.”
I swallow. I can’t tear my gaze away from his eyes. The golden afternoon light brings out the flecks of gold in his irises.
“I can help you with that.” He gestures to my cock. “No strings and we never have to talk about it again if you don’t want to.”
I wipe my hand over your face. “You’re offering to—”
“Give you a blow job.” His tone is deadpan, his expression serious.
Fuck. He meant it earlier. He wasn’t joking. Or maybe he was joking then, but he means it now.
“Or I can hang out upstairs while you relieve yourself.” Kian holds the remote towards me. “I’ll do that.”
I stare at the remote, then at him, and then look at the remote again. After a minute of me doing that, Kian puts the remote on the sofa between us and gets up. I’m going to let him leave. I’m going to let him leave.
