But why couldn’t I stop staring at him when he was naked? Why did a rush of excitement wash over me when he said those awful things to me?
I stumbled backwards, nearly falling into the bathtub. I didn’t want to be like this.I liked girls. I never looked at dudes in the showers. I didn’t care if other people were gay. Live and let live, right? It’s just thatIwasn’t gay.
Right?
The only thing I’d ever really done was get a handjob from Trisha Graham at a Spring Fling after-party. I liked it.
Right?
Yeah, I loved it. It felt good.Did it feel as good as what happened downstairs?That, I couldn’t answer. I’d never felt anything like what happened in the dining room. It was so raw and wrong. I felt out of control and at the mercy of someone who looked unhinged as he held an everyday conversation with me in front of our parents while pressing his feet into my crotch. I felt completely out of control.
And I liked it.
Oh my God.
The bile crept to the back of my throat. I couldn’t handle it.
I loved it.
I wanted to cry.
I felt so fucking dirty and used and I loved it.
This is terrible!
I needed to get out of the house. I gripped the bathroom doorknob, ready to race to my room, grab my running shoes, and run whatever the fuck this was out of my system. The door swung open, and I crashed right into Rafael.
Rafael
Cody plowed into me before stepping back and looking up at me with two chocolate brown eyes sparkling with emotion.
“Get back in the bathroom,” I said with a voice so low and rough that it even made me tingle.
He started to protest, “Rafael, no, this isn’t—”
“Did I say you could speak?” I held his gaze. The pupils of his eyes consumed the brown, turning them black. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t.
“Be a good boy, and do what I tell you.”
Cody took a ragged breath as he backed into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it. “Take off your clothes.” He didn’t move. His eyes blinked at me, and his breathing accelerated. “Now.” I didn’t yell. I was stern. Forceful. And I could tell by the look in his eyes that he liked it. He needed it.Let go, Golden Boy.
He unceremoniously removed his shirt.Too fast.I stopped him when he dropped the shirt and hurried for his belt. “Slowly,” I commanded.
The most delicious little whimper left his mouth. He looked so bashful and innocent. So corruptible. The good boy did as I said, slowly undoing his belt buckle and unbuttoning his shorts. He slid the zipper down, revealing his white briefs. His bulge couldn’t be missed, and there was a stain of precum on his underwear.
“Slide the cargo shorts down.” He did, and they fell to his ankles. Cody clumsily kicked them away, then reached for his underwear. “No. Turn around and bend over while you slide them off. I want to get a good look at that perfect ass.”
His cheeks turned red, and goddamn, I loved it when he blushed like that. Cody turned around, slipped his thumbs into the elastic waistband, and slid them down. It was slow—achingly slow. My cock was harder than a battering ram; I could have used it to break into a bank vault.
The level of arousal I was experiencing shocked me. Panic took hold as my mind questioned what the hell my cock was doing and why it was so turned on by torturing my stepbrother. I’d lost my virginity by the time I was fourteen. Rich kids from Greenwich made a habit of escaping the pressure of overbearing parents through drugs and promiscuity. I’d slept with three different girls in my life, and never had I felt the level of fiery arousal I was experiencing with Cody obeying my every command.
Fuck it. Don’t think about it.
The pale globes of his ass revealed themselves as his underwear slid down past his thighs, slowly inching their way to the floor. Cody’s ass was so fucking perfect. He stayed bent over for a moment, and I couldn’t help but rest my hand on my cock and tug at it.
Cody slowly rose to standing and looked at me over his shoulder. I’ll never forget the look on his face when his eyes met mine. He was so eager for my approval. His eyes screamed their plea, begging me to appreciate the smooth lines of his body.
“That’s a good boy.”
