Page 61 of Bruised

I drag a hand over my face. I smell like sex. “What? No.”

“Did you kidnap him or something?” Oliver growls. “He’s not answering my texts.”

“No, I’m at a fucking job interview,” I say, blessing my propensity to come up with quick lies. “Way to jump to conclusions, little brother.”

“Then where’s Lane?”

“You misplacing your little friend is not my problem.” While you keep on looking, I’ll place him on my cock. “You should keep better track of your stuff.” While I say this, I casually slide a hand between Lane’s legs and stroke a finger over his hole. He gasps and glares at me, scandalized, but he doesn’t pull away.

Oliver hangs up, and Lane squirms away from me, but he doesn’t get far with the limited space.

“We need to get back,” he says.

“Why?” I keep exploring his hole, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Oliver. I told him I was just going to the store. We’ve been gone too long.”

“But we’re having so much fun, puppy.” I lift him into my lap, slipping my cock between his cheeks. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tell him, sliding the head of my cock back and forth over his crack, gathering the lube and my cum from earlier. “You’re going to ride my cock again like a good boy. Then I’ll drive you to the store to buy your candy. I’ll leave you there…” I push him down, and he gasps as my cock slips inside. “And wait while you go back to the house. Oliver won’t suspect a thing.”

“I…” Lane shakes his head. “I don’t… No.”

I thrust into him a few more times, but he keeps being all silent and frozen in place, so I look up at him, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“We need to get back to Oliver,” Lane says, voice firm.

I grit my teeth. “Oliver can wait.” This is more important. We are more important.

“No.” Lane climbs out of my lap, my cock slipping out of his hole.

I grunt in discontent and lean back, letting him clean us up with paper towels.

“Let’s go,” he says, too firm, too urgent.

I know he’s just worried Oliver will figure shit out, but at the same time, this bothers me more than I’d like to admit. Not just because he’s leaving me blue-balled, but because he…

Because he’s choosing Oliver over me.

Gritting my teeth, I sit up and put my clothes back on, and the whole way to the store, I don’t say a word.

This Oliver thing is getting out of hand. He keeps getting between us. Lane and I were having such a good time—a fucking amazing time—and now he’s suddenly desperate to get back?

Lane likes being with me, but only as long as he stays on Oliver’s good side. It feels too conditional. Like I’m something to brush aside as soon as it no longer suits him. I’ve already been discarded by society for what I did; I can’t handle Lane discarding me too.

The sting of rejection burns through my veins as I push the pedal to the metal. This won’t do. My feelings for him are confusing enough that I don’t need any more uncertainty. I need to mark him with more than hickeys and bite marks. He needs a collar, and not just any collar: my collar. A secret proof that he’s mine.

22. NEEDY

Mason is dead quiet all the way back to the house. I try to point out the nature views as we roll down the hill, but he just tightens his grip on the steering wheel and goes faster and faster, whizzing past anything worth seeing to the point my stomach lurches uncomfortably.

He’s clearly upset, but I don’t know why. Did he really expect me to keep messing around with him even when we knew Oliver was waiting? Didn’t we agree to keep this thing between us on the down low, off Oliver’s radar?

Mason drops me off at a local grocery store like we agreed, still without a word. When I arrive at Oliver’s house, I drop my newly bought candy on the kitchen counter and head straight toward the upstairs bathroom.

“Lane?” Oliver calls from his room, and he appears in the hallway. “What took you so long?”

I can’t tell him the truth—I never can whenever Mason’s involved. “I got lost.”

“Oh. Didn’t you use Google Maps?”