I swallow, my hand going still on my dick. “What?”
“You could, like, touch mine. And I could touch yours. Help each other out.”
“You want to… trade?”
“Yeah. A trade. A helping hand between new friends. Co-conspirators.”
My heart pounds against my ribs, a wild, out-of-control rhythm that almost drowns out the porn still playing on the laptop. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I should say no. I should get up, pull on my clothes, and go back to my room. This is crossing a line, a very big, very bright line, and I have no business being on the other side of it.
“We don’t have to,” he adds. “Just an idea. If you’re not comfortable with it, no big deal.”
The ball’s in my court now. He’s offering me an out. All I have to do is take it. But a dark, reckless, curious part of me, a part that’s apparently been dormant for years, wants to see what happens. Wants to know what it feels like to have someone else’s cock in my hand. Specifically, Chase’s monster cock. I blame this crazy day. I blame the adrenaline. I blame Brittany.
I let out a slow breath and move closer to him on the bed, the space between us shrinking until our thighs touch. Then I reach over and wrap my fingers around his dick.
“I’ll trade,” I say.
It feels alien and familiar at the same time. Warm, hard, slick with precum. His skin is velvety soft, but underneath is a core ofsteel. I can feel the throb of his pulse against my palm. His cock is so fucking big I can barely get my hand around it. I give it a tentative squeeze, and his hips twitch, a soft hiss escaping from between his teeth.
“Fuck, yeah,” he breathes, his head falling back against the headboard. “That’s good.”
He returns the favor, his large, calloused fingers circling my dick, his thumb smearing the fluid beaded at the tip. His hands are big, bigger than I realized before. His fingers are long and thick, with bitten-down nails, wrapping around me in a way my own never could. He knows what he's doing, and within seconds, I'm arching my back, a choked gasp ripping out of me.
“Jesus,” I grit out. “Chase…”
“Just relax,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the sensitive spot just under the head. “I got you.”
The guys in the video have moved on to the kitchen table, the bottom on his back with his legs over the top’s shoulders, getting absolutely railed. But the sounds from the laptop fade into the background, overpowered by our ragged breathing and the wet, slick noises our hands make as we stroke each other’s cocks.
I try to match the rhythm he’s using on me, a slow, firm twist on the upstroke and a tight, smooth glide down. He reacts right away, his hips pushing up into my fist, his breaths coming faster and thinner.
“Harder,” he grunts.
I tighten my grip, picking up the pace. I want to make him feel good. I want to make him lose control, the way he’s making me lose control.This is gay,I think to myself,really fucking gay.There’s no denying it. And yet it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right. Which is even more terrifying. But the little bubble of panic that starts to form in my chest is immediately popped by a fresh wave of pleasure that crashes over me as Chase changesthe angle of his wrist, rubbing his thumb over my slit. I moan. Loudly.
“Yeah, like that,” he says. “Let me hear you.”
And I do. I stop trying to hold back the sounds, the whimpers, the gasps, and the moans. I let them spill out as my hand works over his cock, my wrist starting to ache from the angle. He’s leaking steadily now, and the slickness makes it easy to move, to twist, to pump.
I look at him. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of intense concentration. His brows are furrowed, his lips parted. He looks… beautiful. And that’s not a word I’ve ever used to describe a guy before. But it’s true. The line of his jaw, the dark sweep of his eyelashes against his cheekbones, the way the lamplight catches the sweat beading on his temple. There’s a vulnerability in the way he’s lost to the sensation, in the way he’s letting me see him like this.
Then his eyes snap open, and they lock on mine. And in that moment, I know. This isn’t about research anymore. This isn’t about revenge. This isn’t even about Brittany. This is about us. Him and me. On this bed. In this room. Right now.
Then I lean forward and take his big cock into my mouth.
7
Idon’t know where the impulse comes from. I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s completely out of character. But I know I have to. Ineedto taste him.
Chase gasps. His whole body goes rigid. The hand that was stroking me stills, then moves to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Finn…” he breathes, my name a prayer and a plea. “What are you doing?”
I can’t answer right away. My mouth is full. I’m too busy exploring the head of his cock with my tongue, teasing the slit and running over the ridge beneath. The salty, musky taste of him floods my mouth, and it’s better than I ever imagined.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I mumble around a mouthful of cock.
“It looks like you take your research pretty damn seriously. That’s what it looks like.”
I let his dick slip out of my mouth with a pop, then look up at him. “You’re the one who said we need to rehearse. This is me rehearsing.” I lick a long stripe up the underside of his shaft, following the vein that runs all the way to the top. “Or do you want me to stop?”
