Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
My conscience tried to whisper a warning, but I didn’t listen. Right now, I was invincible. I was Supergay, capable of making even a closeted Marine forget the world with a single blowjob.
He gasped when I took him deep. I circled his hole again with a fingertip, pressing just enough to make him groan. Choked sounds spilled from his lips as he rocked into my mouth.
He was so close. I could feel it in the way his body moved, in the tremble of his thigh muscles. I cradled his balls and took him even deeper, lips brushing against his pubes.
“Holy fuck!” he cried. “Gonna—”
I pulled off, but kept working him with my hand, fast and tight. His eyes locked with mine, wide and panicked with pleasure. He was gasping, chest heaving, barely able to breathe. I loved it. I wanted to see him lose it completely.
“I want to see you come,” I said, my voice thick with need.
He cried out, half-words lost in the sound of his orgasm. Watching him shoot was enough to push me over the edge. I barely got my jeans open in time. I jerked myself off, matching the rhythm of his release.
I kept touching him too, working him through it, until he whimpered—an honest-to-God whimper from a man like him undid me. I came hard and fast. When Connor finally sagged against the wall, I pulled back, sat on my heels, breathless and amazed. I looked up, expecting some trace of satisfaction.
Instead, I saw terror in his eyes.
Shit.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and stood up, trying to act like everything was normal.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. His cock still out, his body still trembling, and his face blank with fear.
I pulled up his shorts for him, trying to help. Maybe it would make this less awkward. “You have done this before, right?”
He nodded.
“Did it freak you out then?”
He shook his head.
Of course not. It wasn’t the act. It was me. “Was it easier to pretend when you were in the military? Did it seem less… gay?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Bullshit. He knew. But guys like him? They didn’t reflect, didn’t process. They reacted. Like now. Afraid, confused, probably halfway to convincing himself this never happened.
“I’ll get going, okay?” I said.
He bit his lip hard, looking like he wanted to stop me.
“I…” he started.
I put a finger to his lips. “I get it, but I can’t stay.”
If I stayed, I might kiss him again. I might hope that another round would change something. And that would be so stupid.
I walked to the door and didn’t look back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. But it didn’t matter. I had to leave.
I walked to my car like a ghost and sat in the driver’s seat, staring at nothing.
What now?
Tears burned my eyes.
No. No crying. Not over him.
So he freaked out. He wasn’t ready to admit who he was. Big deal. We had fun. Now I would move on. No way I was messing with that kind of chaos again.
David warned me. He told me not to go.
I made it home before the tears started. Silent at first. Then hot and messy and humiliating.
I was such a fucking fool.
“You need me to pick you up?” David asked when I called.
He always knew. Always. No teasing, no lectures, just solid, steady friendship. When I’d kicked Silas out, David didn’t say I told you so—and he could’ve, so I knew he wouldn’t now, either.
I’d thought, more than once, that life would be easier if David and I were a couple. But even if he were gay, it’d never work. We were too much, too alike in all the wrong ways. We’d kill each other living together. Hell, we’d tried it once and I moved out after a few weeks so we wouldn't destroy our friendship.
Besides, the idea of actually fucking David? Ew. No thank you. He was family, and I’d take that over any fleeting romance.
Who needed love anyway? Relationships just hurt. Over and over. Maybe I should finally learn to enjoy sex for what it was—fun, uncomplicated, disposable. Like David did.
“I want you to take me somewhere I can get drunk—stinking, fall-down, wasted-off-my-ass drunk.”
“You got it. Are you at home?”
"Yes.”
“Give me about twenty minutes.”
“Am I fucking up your evening?”
“No. Yes, but you can owe me.”
“You’re with a woman, aren’t you?”
“Not for long.”
He ended the call before I could say more. God, I hoped he hadn’t answered in the middle of sex. But the mental image—David, naked and scrambling for his phone while some girl stared in disbelief—made me laugh. A little. And I needed that.
I really, really needed that.
12
Connor
Islid down the wall and dropped my head onto my knees. How the fuck had I managed to screw up this badly? Jeremy was even better in real life than in my fantasies—his lips softer, his touch more certain, his mouth… God, the things his mouth could do. I’d been sucked off plenty of times—boot camp, Afghanistan, even a time or two since I got back stateside. But those times, I was always distracted, worrying about getting caught, or wondering why I was letting some guy I hated wrap his lips around my dick in a place that smelled like diesel and despair.