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My hand moves faster up and down my shaft, orgasm right there, teasing me, luring me in, taunting me with the pleasure I know will feel good but will not be nearly enough.
I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t want him, but it’s just sex…hell, even more than that, this is just fantasy. I’ve jerked off to Dusty before, and that didn’t mean anything.
“Dusty…” I let his name fall from my lips, hand running over the head of my dick before stroking toward the root again. “Dusty…” His name slips out a second time, right before color explodes behind my eyelids, balls draw up, pleasure suffusing my body as I paint my best friend’s shower wall with my load.
I drop my forehead against the tile. “Fuck.”
My dick is definitely happier, and I feel more relaxed in some ways, even if it’s just a very little amount of pressure that I released.
But this is trouble. This is what made me ask him to go with me before…and what broke my heart when he said no. It’s what would have made me want to stay if Dusty hadn’t made the choice for me by kissing Rhett.
Get your head together, I tell myself, then clean my jizz off the shower and wash myself. A few minutes later, I’m in bed, in Dusty’s spare room, staring at the ceiling and feeling even lonelier than I had when I first arrived.
CHAPTER TEN
Dusty
I don’t usually have a problem falling asleep after an orgasm, but I’ve been lying in bed for over an hour after jerking off in the shower while thinking about my best friend. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. It’s not even the first time I’ve done it while we’re in the same house, but for some reason, I can’t stop obsessing about it. Something about the way Morgan’s chocolate-brown eyes had been watching me earlier. The way they’d felt like a caress against my skin.
Has he ever looked at me that way before? Ever touched me with his gaze? All I know is I crave more. I want to get my fill of it, even though I know I never will. When it comes to Morgan Swift, what I have will never be enough. I will always want more.
If this had been ten years ago, he would be beside me in this bed right now. When we stayed in the same house, we always slept in the same bed. It doesn’t matter that we’ve never been sexual, never even kissed. That’s not what it was about. We’ve just always liked to be close to each other, and it feels strange knowing he’s on the other side of my house right now.
Time blends together while I lie in my bed, looking at the ceiling, obsessing. I hate that I’m going back to this, that I can’t stop my world from spinning for Morgan when he’s around, but…I also don’t hate it. Because it’s us, and it’s him, and we’re special.
The soft knock on my bedroom door surprises me. I turn toward it, sit up, blankets covering me from my waist down. I’m not wearing anything other than boxer briefs. Usually, I don’t even sleep in those, and I’m not sure what made me do it tonight.
“Come in,” I call out. Is he really out there, or have I imagined it?
The door slowly pushes open, the moon shining through the window spotlighting Morgan standing there, in low-slung sweats and no shirt. He’s got dark hair along his pecs, less than I have, his stomach’s defined, the edge of his black underwear peeking out the top.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, though somehow, I know it both is and isn’t. Being around his family fucks with Morgan’s head, but that’s not why he’s standing in my doorway now. He’s here because just like me, it doesn’t feel right to be so close yet so far away. Whatever this bond is, this connection between us, it’s fierce and unchangeable. It might only be friendship for him, but that doesn’t change how strong it is.
“Shut up. You know why I’m here.”
I swallow the boulder in my throat and nod toward the other side of the bed. Morgan comes in, closes the door behind him, pulls the blankets back up, and climbs in.
We don’t talk for a moment, both of us lying there, looking up at shadows of trees dancing along the ceiling.
“Your boyfriend won’t care that you’re lying here with me?” There might not be anything sexual between us, but if he were mine, I wouldn’t want anyone to share a bed with Morgan except me.
He lets out a humorless laugh. “No. Not at all. Rob and I aren’t really like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure he fucked a twink at the club the other night.”
My body stiffens. “You think he’s cheating on you?”
“No. We’re open. And despite what people who aren’t in that lifestyle might think, it’s not cheating. We have friends in their sixties who have been together since they were twenty-five who are open and the strongest couple I’ve ever seen. They love fiercely. Sex is just different for them.”
The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away, but my body relaxes some. “I don’t think it’s cheating, and I have no problem with people living their lifestyle. To each their own. I just…” Couldn’t imagine having him and wanting anyone else. It’s not like I can say that, though. “I wouldn’t have thought that’s what you want.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never done it with anyone except Rob, and honestly, I don’t play as much as he does. Most of the time, I only do it when it’s him and me with other men. The point is, he wouldn’t care that I’m in bed with you, even if we weren’t just friends.”
Because we are…just friends. Still, I’m trying to wrap my head around the guy who fought his brother because we kissed, being okay with his boyfriend fucking other men, being with him when he fucked other men.
Red flashes in my vision. He’s not even mine, and the thought makes me want to rage.
I guess the difference is, Rob has never kissed Rhett.
I’ll never forgive myself for that.
