Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“Y-yes. Fuck, yes,” I panted.
“Good boy.”
That was it for me. Two fucking words that, frankly, should have made me laugh…actually made me come. Good boy. Christ, I was easy or crazy. I couldn’t decide.
Not that it mattered. I was too busy falling into a million pieces. I came like a geyser, shooting cum in an impressive arc across his fist and onto my stomach. My vision blurred for a beat, but I didn’t miss his fevered cry as he gave in to his orgasm. He bucked and shuddered before collapsing on top of me in a graceless heap.
We eventually untangled ourselves and wordlessly cleaned up, taking turns in the bathroom. My clothes were everywhere. I thought I’d lost my shirt downstairs, but I wasn’t sure. I decided to gather what I could in his room, backtrack, and get the fuck out.
Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t feel awkward…yet, but that could change on a dime, and I really didn’t do well with awkward. A little distance went a long way to restoring some semblance of normal.
I picked up my discarded boxer briefs and gave him a quick smile as I stepped into them. “I’ll leave my tools in the hallway and finish the porch in the morning. They’re safe, but not fully secure. I’ll take care of that in—”
“Stay.”
I snapped the elastic on my briefs and scowled. “Stay? Where? What are you talking about?”
Cameron’s answering grin was wide and disarming as fuck. He pinched my ass and sidled by me, flopping onto his pillow. He patted the rumpled sheets as he rolled to face me.
“I’m talking about hanging out together. Clothing optional.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Nothing came to mind. Except… “You called me ‘good boy.’ It’s the second time you’ve done that. I can’t do the naked hang-out thing with someone who calls me a good boy. It’s weird.”
Cameron threw his head back and guffawed. “What if I promise to only call you that in bed?”
I set my hands on my hips, studying his mussed salt-and-pepper hair, twinkling eyes, and the sexy thatch of hair on his toned pecs. And Lord help me, I wanted him all over again. I wasn’t sure what to do with the sappy, affectionate feeling blossoming in my chest, so I frowned a little harder.
“Hmph.”
“C’mere, Joe.”
I tried to think of at least one of the reasons I’d thought staying was a bad idea, but his crooked smile dared me to let my defenses down…at least for the night.
I ambled toward him, pausing at the edge of the mattress. “Fine, but don’t ask me what my fuckin’ favorite color is, and no footsies.”
He snickered. “Deal.”
6
Cameron
Joe spent the night. The whole night.
I assumed he’d leave around nine o’clock to sleep in his own bed or that I’d gently remind him I was actually supposed to be writing. But he seemed comfortable, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling so…relaxed with a lover. I didn’t feel like researching vicious killers or losing myself in a world of intrigue and suspense. The only mystery I wanted to tackle was Joe. Literally and figuratively.
We talked in bed for hours that night, covering everyday topics like music, movies, and concerts. Joe liked rock ‘n’ roll, adventure flicks, and claimed that the best concert he’d ever been to was David Bowie in Vegas in 2004.
“I’d just turned twenty-one and I wanted to celebrate with a bang in the city of sin. Quite the memorable weekend. I saw my hero live, popped my gay cherry, and won five thousand bucks at a roulette table,” Joe bragged.
“No way.”
“Way. It was an impromptu trip with college buddies that ended up being a milestone for the ages.”
“Sounds like it.” I ran my forefinger along his crease and bit his shoulder playfully as I peppered him with questions about traveling, his bi-ness, and his infatuation with Bowie.
I learned that in spite of his win, Joe had never gone back to Vegas and had never been to LA…which I thought was kind of crazy. He’d freely explored his attraction to men in college, and though he’d never officially come out at home, everyone knew.
“When you have nothing to lose, you can be anything you want. My dad was gone, I was too wild for my mom, and my uncle had health issues. I was smart in school, a demon on the ice, and a wild man in town. I was bulletproof and cocky as fuck. I’m sure they rolled their eyes in mock surprise… ‘Of course, Joe Linton is bi. The boy is a greedy bastard,’ ” he grumbled in a comical octogenarian voice.
I wanted to ask him what he had to lose now, but I liked this lighthearted banter, and I didn’t want to ruin the mood by digging too deep.