I’d always known that, but I needed the reminder, because my mind was all over the place.
“Now, dry off, then get ready for bed.”
“Yes, Kip.” I suddenly felt exhausted. I stood and he put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. Then he kissed me so sweetly on the lips, I could have combusted on the spot.
“I can’t make any promises, but I want to see what this is between us. Would that be okay?”
It was more than I’d ever expected.
And way more than I’d ever hoped for.
Chapter Eight
Kip
I swearmy cock was like a fucking brick all damn night.
Whose idea was it to get a room with a king bed instead of two queens, just to save a few bucks?
Yeah, that would be me.
Mason lay beside me, breathing. I mean, that was all he was doing, just inhaling and exhaling, and yet my dick was growing more painfully erect with each passing minute.
What the hell?
When we were in high school, I’d find a willing girl and we’d spend a few hours in bed, and then either she’d leave or I would. That was it. I was happy and sated, and I’d sleep like a baby.
But tonight I’d snuck into the bathroom, tugged out three loads, andstillthe fucking thing wouldn’t deflate.
The urge to watch Mason rode me hard, but that was taking creepy to a whole new level, so I forced myself to stay in bed with my back to him and his damned breathing.
And that was when it happened.
The mattress dipped as he rolled, and a moment later anarm slid around my stomach and he buried his face in the back of my neck.
I nearly shot in my sweats. His hand was so soft, his breathing so sweet. I knew I shouldn’t, but I reached up and wrapped his fingers in mine. Lying beside him felt… right.
It felt amazing.
“Mase?” I let go.
Nothing.
“Mason?”
“What?” he grumbled, clearly annoyed at being woken up.
“Check where your hand is, my dude.”
He flexed his fingers, his nails scraping over my fuzzy abs. A few seconds passed, his fingers probed a bit more, then came a whispered, ‘oh, fuck!’ as he scrambled back to his side of the bed.
“I’m so sorry.” The words came out in a rough whisper.
I wanted to remind him I was straight, but that seemed stupid. He knew it, and I knew it. Why then was I so fucking hard I could pound nails into a diamond? Why did his mere touch have me on the edge of shooting another load? And why the hell was I picturing his pouty lips stretched over my cock, his eyes on me, pleading for my approval? Why did I imagine his mouth wasn’t going to be enough? That I wanted more. Except that was a lie.
I wanted it all. I wanted him spread out in front of me, like some weird buffet, where I could eat my fill. Or he could….
Thoughts rose in my head, and I tried to banish them, but they remained lodged in there. I got up, telling myself this was a bad idea.
