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“No, that’s not what this is.”
Jude’s face flames and his bottom lip trembles. “Right. I know that. I totally know that. It’s just a hobby.”
The way he says that, those broken words, I should feel gleeful, but instead, my heart pinches.
“Yeah. I have to go,” I murmur and then make my way hastily out of the room.
I need to get my head on straight. I don’t like Jude. I fucking hate him, and it’ll do me good to remember that.
CHAPTER 6
JUDE
The cock cage is in the trash bin outside. I wrapped that shit up and tossed it right after Alec left. As hot as that was, that’s not a hobby I want to start putting time and effort into. It was too much. It made me feel too exposed.
It made me want other things.
A lot of other things.
I shiver at the thought of him sucking on my balls the other day, of his tongue pushing into me. Of his fingers spearing me wide open, pressing against my prostate and making me nearly scream from pleasure.
Jesus fucking Christ on a kebob. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
There’s nothing wrong with you.
And yet, I can’t help but think that there is.
“It’s just another hobby,” I tell myself as I stand under the shower, feeling the warm water rush across my body. “Just a simple hobby. Nothing more, nothing less.”
But I can’t quite convince myself of it anymore. Sucking dick seemed like a great hobby. It was impersonal and occasional, but sitting on Alec’s face, letting him put a part of him inside of me twice, and wanting him to do it again, seems a little less hobby-ish to me.
Quickly, I dry myself off, putting on deodorant and running a hand through my wet hair.
I should talk to someone about this, I think as I pull on a shirt and some jeans, but I don’t know who to open up to. Ollie? Lucas? Neither of them seems like a good prospect. Lucas will probably make me cut wood as therapy and Ollie will suggest talking to the birds. Maybe I could call Wesley and ask him for his advice, but I don’t know about that either.
I don’t know who I can talk to.
Jai, maybe? Although that seems selfish. Not after that kiss.
Fuck, the kiss. He kissed me and we haven’t talked since.
I stare down at my phone and punch out a message, asking if he wants to hang out later and pray to the gods that he responds. I want to stay friends with him. I don’t want my stupid comments or reactions to get between us. I need him in my life.
Making my way into the kitchen, I see Ollie lying on the dining table, a book held up over his face.
“Why are you on the table?” I ask as he turns his head toward me and grins.
“Pulled my back a bit with the last move I did. Trying to stretch it out. What are you up to?”
I shrug because I have no idea. I have no clue what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. I’m just aimlessly wandering through life at this point. I graduated college with a degree and I’m working at a sandwich shop, sharing a house with some buddies of mine, and getting rimmed on occasion.
I need to get a fucking life.
“Was thinking about taking up a new hobby,” I murmur.
Ollie sits up with a wince and sets his book down, his legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the table.
“Like what kind of hobby?”
