Page 60 of At The End Of The Day

I pulled a slow, shallow breath to avoid triggering the pain from the wounds and gazed up at the ceiling, pondering that question. How did I feel about that? At the moment, it had been the single most erotic, pleasurable thing I’d ever felt. I’d fucked plenty of women in the ass over the years, but none gripped my dick quite like Vincent had. And the way my body curved against him so damn perfectly, our movements matching almost as if we were one person was pretty amazing. Had we not been interrupted, that would have absolutely been the most incredible orgasm of my entire life.

From Vincent. A man. My friend. My brother. It was kind of hard to hang on to that “gays are gross” mentality when I had literally begged that man to fuck me and make me cum.

So, what did that mean? Was I gay? Did I still want pussy? Lying here, the agony consuming every inch of my body made it kind of hard to feel lust, but when I pictured having sex again, it wasn’t glistening pink pussy my brain was fantasizing about, it was a hard body with thin hair covering his chest. Tattoos decorating slightly bulky muscles, calloused hands, smooth ass, tightest fucking hole ever, and a long, thick cock that had tasted amazing. It was a gruff, baritone groan I longed to hear, not a dainty moan. I wanted to taste those nuts, not bouncing tits. Instead of soft, pouty lips, I wanted firm ones with a thin beard. A beard. I hated beards.

Shit. There was a pretty good chance I was gay now. Did that mean I always had been but had been in denial? Or was everything I was feeling, for him, alone?

Rolling my head to gaze at him, my heart swelled into my ribs, the space shrinking to build a small pressure. Unsure what to say or think, I acted on feelings and dragged my knuckles along his jawline. His brows lifted, a hand sliding up my forearm to hold my hand.

“As soon as you get outta here, you need to shave.”

He frowned and tipped his head. “What?”

My pulse skipping, I whispered, “If I’m gonna be kissing a man, I at least want smooth skin.”

His eyelids rounded and he blanched, a breath catching the back of his throat. His lips smacking a bit, he gulped and opened his mouth to pant quickly. “Dash.”

Exhilaration shot through my system, savoring that sound. Stretching my arm to hook the side of his neck, I pulled him closer, the smile falling. His expression one of uncertainty, he inched nearer, holding my stare. Even as our lips meshed and our tongues rolled together, neither of us looked away. I added pressure to my fingertips, flicking my tongue to the roof of his mouth. Finally, he groaned and closed his eyes, succumbing to the kiss.

Every nerve prickled with fire, and I gave in, as well, delighting in kissing my male best friend. So, this was my life now. Looked like I was into the gayness. With Vincent, I could be okay with it.

Chapter 25

Vincent da Silva

Saturday 09.14.2019

Dash’s home was situated near the rear of an eighteen-acre plot, surrounded by trees that had a long, narrow drive through low hanging branches. When he first bought the property, it had been a small, two bedroom, one thousand square foot trailer. Over the years, with the help of some of the Serpents, he’d added onto the structure, bricking it in, until it was now four bedrooms, two baths, and almost twenty-five hundred square feet.

Driving the car as slowly as possible to avoid rocking the vehicle, I held my breath the entire way, only exhaling when the woods opened to the section for the house. A porch expanding the entire front, I grimaced at the four steep steps he would have to climb. Funny how everyday things seemed mundane. Now that he was hurt, I was seeing so many things that would hinder his movements.

I cast a sideways glance his way and frowned. He was slumped against the door, passed out, his jaw gaping with a trace of drool. The moment I wheeled him out of the hospital and put him in the car, he was popping muscle relaxers to stave off the pain.

Following the worn, dirt path to the side of the house, I pulled into the carport, parked, and cut off the engine. Removing my seatbelt, I shifted my weight, reached over the console, and leaned into him to unhook his. My heart rate increased at his nearness, my breaths shallowing as I studied his features. My stomach knotting, I gently stroked my thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away the spittle before dipping low and stealing a kiss.

Dash snorted, jerked, and swung, punching me right in the fucking eye.

“Ah, shit!” I shouted, falling back to my ass in my own seat, grimacing at the agony ripping through my ribs. The socket stinging, I covered it and glared. “What the fuck was that for?”

He blinked rapidly, his arms spread wide, a palm on the console, the other on the window. Almost hyperventilating, he was looking around with a sense of bewilderment. “What the hell is going on?”

“You fucking punched me in the face, you cocksucker.”

Squinting, he pulled a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled, his cheeks puffing out. His frame slumping, he closed his eyes and rested his head to the back of the seat. “Yeah, well, rumors have it I’m pretty goddamn good at it.”

Not catching on right away, when the weight of his words finally registered, I threw my head back and bellowed with laughter, but it caused discomfort, so it ended with a hiss through my teeth. “The best.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, just you wait until I ain’t Swiss cheese no more. I’ll show you what the fuck good is,” he stated and tugged at the seam of his jeans.

Glancing down, excitement hit my system at the slight bulge. My arm draping over the steering wheel, my head tipped, a brow lifting. “So, you like it rough, huh?”

He frowned and lifted one lid to peer. “Huh?”

“I kiss you in your sleep, you get hard, wake up, and punch me.”

The smile spread again, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Dude, I ain’t in the right frame of mind to be sneaking up on me like that. You got what you deserved.”

My humor drained slowly, a constriction squeezing my throat. That nagging voice of reasoning was whispering in my ear. Dash was not in the right frame of mind. Not for regular life and definitely not to start an intimate relationship that completely took him out of his comfort zone. If I were a woman, sure, maybe I could see it working. Being a man, the likeliness of anything substantial happening was slim to none. I was setting myself up for heartache.