Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I’d never done that before, but my body reacted to her request like it had just been granted its only wish. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as I knelt behind her and followed her instructions. Stretching her with shaking fingers until she said she was ready for more.
I close my eyes, remembering how it felt to watch my cock disappear between ass cheeks dripping with lube and into the tightest hole it had ever known.
So tight.
Did she have olive skin? She must have, because I can see it as I grip those hips and rock in deep. I was trying to be careful, trying to hold on to my control, but she kept asking for more.
My knees weak, I stumble over to the bed and lean forward for a better angle, half on, half off the mattress as I thrust down into my hand.
No. Not my hand. I’m still buried in that ass, and this time I know the body beneath me can take it. They don’t want me holding back. They want to be fucked.
Need to fuck you so hard.
The bed is shuddering with the force of every thrust. My hips are relentless. The tip of my cock is dripping, coating my fingers to ease the friction.
A wave of possessiveness washes over me. I want to mark the ass beneath me. I want to watch the skin darken and bruise in my grip. I want to own it. Claim it. Hold him down and control his pleasure until he’s screaming my name.
Oh God.
“Joey.”
I come hard in my hand. I’m blinking away spots, my body quaking with the strength of the climax as I roll onto my back, struggling to breathe and keep my heart from beating out of my chest.
“Jesus.”
I said that. I imagined that. I jerked off to the fantasy of fucking the man next door. The one who likes kiddie songs and wizard books, and looks flustered whenever I get too close.
What the hell was that about?
Sure, he’s handsome. Almost beautiful, but not too pretty to confuse the issue. He has stubble. Strong eyebrows. A good jawline and a toned body that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but masculine, no matter what angle you’re looking at it from.
Even the angle I was imagining.
My shaft, still in my hand, starts to fill again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Scoffing, I drag myself off the bed and back on my feet, moving to the bathroom on legs that still aren’t fully recovered.
I’m wiping my stomach and the new semi with a washcloth when I catch my reflection in the mirror.
Who are you?
I don’t look like EJ “Flash” Ransom anymore. I shaved the beard and cut my hair as soon as I left the season, hoping I would draw less attention that way. It’s amazing how much difference a little facial hair can make. It’s been years since I could go to a grocery store the way I do now. Not without at least a few people asking for selfies.
I used to know myself.
At the beginning of the summer I was a moderately well-known pitcher with a throw like a bullet. I could bend that ball to my will, slow down time or make the pitch invisible to the naked eye. I was the scandal-free bachelor with near-perfect stats and gold-star-worthy attendance. The reliable player with perfect control. A machine.
Now I’m a father. A couch surfer until I find the right house to raise my daughter in. A possible comeback story.
Gay?
I don’t think so, but then I’ve never really considered it before. Not consciously. The fact that I’m not more freaked out about what just happened is a little strange. Okay, a lot strange. But it happens, right?
I’ve spent my life seeing other men naked in the showers and locker rooms. I’ve admired bigger, fatter and sleeker dicks than mine, the way most guys do, whether they’re willing to cop to it or not. It doesn’t bother me to see two men or two women kissing each other. It never has. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I was thinking about him, I got hard and I took care of it. There was bound to be some bleed-through.
What if it means more than that?
What if it doesn’t?
But what if it does?
The feeling of connection I was talking about makes this feel more complicated than it is. I like him. I trust him. He was there for me when he didn’t have to be.
I won’t jeopardize his potential friendship by getting spooked over something I can’t control and he isn’t to blame for.
I’m not even sure he’s gay, though I’d be surprised if he weren’t. Not because of anything he said or did. Sure, maybe the blushing and his erection gave me some clues. But I wasn’t flattering myself. It could have been about anything. Anyone.