I’m not trying to be mean or anything, so I pull off him and run my hand along his smooth stomach instead, dipping my fingers into the ridges and teasing at the sensitive skin in his V-line.
I just… Fuck, I just had good,satisfyingsex for the first time in two years. Chuckling to myself for no reason, I lie down next to Dean and steal one of his pillows.
“You okay?” he asks, rolling over.
“Yeah.” I suck in a breath. “Thanks for that. It feels good to have fun again.”
He smirks and ruffles my hair. “Aw, don't worry about it. I'm always down to help out a sex-starved dirty talker. Especially when he's built like a baseball player.”
I swat at his chest. “Hey, I'mverywell versed in all things sex. I just don't like having it with just anyone.”
And the post-double-nut clarity slams into me like a truck.Shit.That’s the last thing anyone needs to hear after ahookup.
“Because you were nice to me and all,” I blurt out. “Nice guys finish first sometimes, right?”
My bad joke appears to land, since Dean lets out a chuckle. He moves a lazy hand onto my thigh and squeezes. “Huh. If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who busted after thirty seconds of head.”
I prop myself up onto my elbows to get a better look at Dean’s handsome, smirking face. “In my defense, you gave me a good fucking blowjob. And I never said I wasn’t nice.”
We fall into a silence that doesn’t turn awkward, with Dean still recovering as I trace the enthralling lines on his body, scratching at his bush and snickering at his tut of protest. His dick is really freaking nice even when it’s soft and spent, and I trail a teasing finger up the length of it, my own cock firming up ever so slightly when I see it twitch.
“Do you seriously want to go another round already?” he asks incredulously.
I shake my head. “Dude, I'mwinded.” Even so, I move up and latch onto his bicep, hauling him onto me. “Wanna make out instead?”
Dean snorts, resting his chin on my chest and beaming up at me. “Is that even a question? Yes, fuckingplease.”
Returning his laughter, I crash my mouth against his, smiling through the kiss and accepting his tongue as it breaches my teeth. Again, this guy cankiss. The only difference today compared to Friday is that now, it's more than just harmless fun. My tired dick makes a little jump, and even though I’m certain I can’t go for a third round, the feeling is downright intoxicating.
Sure, this turning-me-the-hell-on is new, too, but what's really getting to me is that all it took was being friends with him to let me feel like this. I might like him a tiny little bit, but it isn’t serious—being friends with himandstaying just physical is more than I thought I was capable of.
And honestly, I'll take it. It’s what I can get.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DEAN
My apartment has a shitty view out the window. If I strain my neck and press my face against the glass, I can make out the edge of a forest, but other than that, I’m staring at the crumbling foundation of an abandoned factory. Maybe it used to be a paper mill or something, I wouldn’t know.
Still, when faced with the choice of looking there and getting hypnotized by the sight of Nick’s sleeping, shirtless body sprawled across my bed, I’m gonna opt for avoidance and worn-down bricks.
Fuck.
We agreed to go back to being friends, and twelve hours later, I blew a load down his throat with my face buried deep in his ample asscheeks, then we made out on and off between eating takeout and exploring each other’s bodies until we passed out.
Now I know that biting behind his ear makes his whole body go limp. Now Nick knows that stroking my neck makes me go wild. Friends certainly don’t have this kind of information on one another.
All that talk about how he doesn’t hook up, and then wedid. And he initiated.
As much as I couldn’t understand his situation before, at the very least, it didn’t confuse me. Now I don’t know where the two of us stand, whether yesterday was a one-off of Nick experimenting, and if he’ll want to go back to beingjust friendseven though I know what his moans sound like when I tease his dickhead and when he’s about to come.
Yeah, he sounds fuckinghot,and the recollection is simply stoking, or stroking, my morning wood.
I’m helpless, so I turn my head to face the bed, roving my eyes up from his socked feet, up those toned legs, over his tented sweats, the dark, sexy hair on his bare stomach, and then across that smooth chest to the dark hair of his pits, then his stubbled jaw, pretty eyes?—
Wait,eyes?
Shit, he’s awake. With exactly zero subtlety, I re-arrange my erection beneath my sleep shorts, securing it under the waistband.
