His cheeks flush darker. “Left hand’s no good for that.”
That confession sends heat rushing through me. “How long?”
“Five days.”
Fuck. I bite back a groan as my own cock throbs. “Damn, G. You must be hurting.”
“Shut up. Now get up.”
My hands are still on his thigh, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric. His cock is fully hard now, thick and straining. It would be so easy to lean forward, pull his underwear down, and take him in my mouth.
George and I keep staring at each other, his hand still on my shoulder, mine still on his thigh. We’re right on the edge. I glance at the lock again, confirmingit’s secure.
“Why?” I let my voice drop, low and teasing. “Worried you can’t keep it down?”
“Can’t you stop being such a fucking tease?”
“I’m not a tease if I follow through,” I say, watching him bite down on his lower lip. “And I’m definitely following through.”
“You’re unbelievable,” George whispers, sounding both amused and surprised.
I reach down and adjust myself through my jeans, palming the obvious bulge. George’s eyes track the movement, widening when he sees how hard I am too.
His voice comes out strangled, rough with heat. “You hard?”
“Yeah,” I answer, voice thick. “Can’t a guy get rock hard watching his best friend’s dick swell up like that? Look at you. It’s fucking obscene.”
George holds his breath for a few seconds, and I watch the exact moment he makes up his mind.
The worry then hits me when I remember he’s injured. If I lean in too eagerly, I could hurt him without meaning to. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He reads it on my face and his grip softens, thumb brushing my shoulder once. “No. You’re not gonna hurt me.”
16
Lance
I finally lean in, press my open mouth against the thick bulge, and mouth him through the cotton. The heat of him radiates against my lips and tongue. George hisses sharply, tilting his face up toward the ceiling as his good hand tightens on my shoulder.
I drag my mouth slowly up and down the rigid length, rubbing the heavy outline all over my face and breathing him in deep. That warm, masculine scent makes my cock throb and my mouth water. I give the head a little nip with my teeth, then work my way down to the thick base. My lips and tongue tease every inch through the fabric.
I pull back just enough to look up at him, voice low. “How big is this thing, G?”
He blinks down at me, looking a little dazed. “Huh?”
“Have you actually measured it? How long are you?”
George stares down at me like I just said the dumbest thing he’s heard all week, then lets out a short, breathless laugh. “Ten?”
Damn. Longer than any of my dildos.
I pull the briefs down and his cock springs free, rock-hard and flushed deep red, the fat girth stretching wide from base to tip with a slick bead of precum already glistening at the slit.
This isn’t just me helping my best friend because his hand is out of commission. This is me choosing it, wanting every thick inch, and that sharp difference makes my pulse race and my own cock throb with pure need.
“They could hear us,” George whispers, his good hand sliding up into my hair.
“I know.” I wrap my hand around him, giving him a few slow strokes just to watch his reaction. His grip at the back of my neck tightens as he looks up at the ceiling. “Think you can keep quiet?”
