Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
And when the cab pulls up, and I help Miller get in the back, I’m conscious of every move he makes in his seat, every breath he takes … Fuck, now I sound like that stalker song Sting sang.
I force myself to not freak out and get Miller back to his hotel room. Like a pro, I get him settled on his bed, ignore the flashback of him going at it with a girl while I watched, and go to the bedside phone to call the front desk and ask for ice packs.
“I’m not an invalid, you know,” Miller says. “Go back to training.”
Oh, I want to get out of here all right but not to go back to training. My body’s alert and edgy, and while a workout would probably help calm me down, so would a good jerk-off session back in my own room.
“Seriously, go. I’ll be fine,” Miller says.
“All right.” I pick up the phone again and ask them to bring a master key to let themselves in.
“I’m fine,” Miller complains.
“Mmhmm, sure you are.”
The guy on the line says they’ll be right up.
I would stay to make sure Miller doesn’t get out of bed, but if I stay in here any longer, I may go insane.
Like you’re not already halfway there.
I head for the door but turn back at the last second. “Make sure you ice that leg.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Giving him a smile, I leave the room and can’t get back to mine fast enough.
With Jackson still at training, I have the room to myself, and I don’t waste time losing my clothes.
There’s no time or enough patience for me to grab my phone and look for porn. My cock was full mast by the time I’d reached my door, so there’s no need for it.
I lie on my bed and take myself in my hand and give a few strokes before I need to add spit for smoother friction.
The groan that escapes sounds deep and guttural, and I wonder what it’d sound like in another man’s voice.
No, don’t think about that.
My brain doesn’t listen. It flashes back to Jackson grinding on his boyfriend, me standing there hard as a rock, and those three words I’ve never said or heard directed at me.
My cock pulses under my hand as I stroke faster, and my heart beats in my throat.
Women. Think about women.
The only problem with this is the times I’ve been with one woman, it hasn’t been as explosive as any of the times I’ve been there with Miller.
So now he’s in my head too. And he’s beautiful.
No, not beautiful. It’s just sex. It was always just sex.
Lesbian porn! Think of that.
Oh, who am I kidding. That’s never done it for me. Maybe I’m a voyeur, or maybe I have been oblivious to my attraction to guys for a long time, because to me, there’s nothing hotter than watching while Miller takes a girl. Or him watching me.
So, go with that.
The minute my conscience allows me to let go, the need to come hits with full force. Only, when I picture Miller, he’s not with a girl.
He stands in front of me with his hard abs, olive skin, and that tattoo over his left pec. Believe. Achieve. He got that when we were drunk one night and we were talking about our future pro careers. He thought if he tattooed it to his chest it’d come true.
I video called him the day he was drafted—of course, I did—and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for him to be picked up by New England, but I knew the chances were slim. We had offensive linemen up to our ears. He was in the fourth round, so it wasn’t televised; I wanted to see his reaction when he found out what team had chosen him, but it didn’t matter, because his smile was still there when he finally answered my call.
Without warning, my orgasm slams into me, and I come all over my stomach and chest. I keep stroking until I have nothing left and my muscles stop convulsing.
Breathing heavy, I’m thrown into the reality that I jerked off to my best friend. Not his body. Not him banging some girl in front of me. But of the day he was drafted. It was all him.
Well, that’s new …
* * *
My finger hovers over my brother’s name on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to press Call. We’ve always been super close, but this … this might be out of the realm of our relationship. He’s the only one outside of this whole situation who I’m comfortable talking to, but even then, admitting to another guy you got turned on by other guys and then jerked it to—
Fuck it. Trey isn’t the type of guy to freak out over this stuff. I don’t think.