“Obviously.”
Fletcher chokes back a laugh. “Jesus, Vince. This is not how I’d thought it’d go.”
My brain short-circuits.He’s thought about us together?
His large hands spread my ass, and he starts to slide two fingers in, but stops. “Wait. Where’s your lube?”
“Don’t bother. It’ll just make it slippery.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, for fucks—get it out, Fletcher! Please!”
“Okay. Sorry. Here I go.” He slides two fingers in. The stretch is so perfect that I immediately bear down on him, instinct driving me back. Maybe if I hadn’t waited a damn eternity to masturbate I’d have more control.
Fisting the sheets, I suck in a breath, trying to calm down. My cock twitches, warm fluid leaking from the tip.
Fletcher ignores the embarrassingly loud groan coming from me and shoves his fingers a little deeper. “Okay, yeah. I feel it. Shit, it really is on, isn’t it?”
“You think I’d lie about that?”
He chuckles. “Hold still.” He adds a third finger, pushing in more and spreading them.
One finger slides beside the vibrator, which makes the toy press hard against my prostate. I buck my hips, crying out.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Fletcher freezes. “Did I hurt you?”
I look over my shoulder. “Toy in my ass, Fletch. What do you think?”
His eyes widen, then he stifles a laugh in one hand. “I’m sorry! This is just… okay. Here. I think I can get it. Angle your hips up.”
“If I move at all, my nuts are going to spill.”
“Then come. I don’t care. Do you want my help or not?”
The toy rubs against my nerves again, and I hide my face in the mattress. “Dammit. Just hurry up.”
I try to think about the movie, the guitar, the successful trip to my apartment.Anythingbut the way his calloused fingers are moving in my ass. Or the firm hold he has on my hips. Or the subtle sounds he’s making…fuck.
“Why’d you even use it? It’s so small.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen! It just slipped in.”
“Mm-hmm.” Fletcher snorts. “That’s what I told the first girl I had sex with too.”
I try to glare at him over my shoulder, and we just end up laughing. The movement jostles the vibrator. “Fletcher! Please!”
“Okay! I’m sorry. I’m trying.” He changes his angle, twisting his hand inside me with just the right pressure.
I quickly close a hand around the base of my cock, trying not to embarrass myself further—but it only makes it worse. The skin-on-skin contact is pure bliss.
His left hand digs into my hip as he pushes in again. This time, instead of the toy, it’s his hot, thick finger pressing against my prostate. It’s too much. I lose control, groaning loudly as my balls draw up. My hand flies without meaning to, and my cock spills in hot, white ropes onto the comforter.
Fletcher freezes, as if surprised that I really was that close to coming. He mutters a soft curse under his breath before quickly pulling the vibrator out.
“There. Got it.”
