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I slouch, staring at him stupidly. I bite my lip and muster up a big bucket of patience, despite my cock throbbing so hard that I might fuck a hole through my pants if I don’t get my release soon. “When he hears that I’m not alone—as he clearly heard before I even opened the door—he hides. It’s what he does.”
“He hides?” Trevor’s eyes soften. “Oh, that’s so sweet. I can relate to that, actually.”
I purse my lips. Great. Trevor can relate to my dog. A second ago, I had all of his attention and commanded his every sexual thought and feeling. Now, I might as well be wearing a hotdog costume slathered in mango salsa for all he’d notice.
“Oh? Can you?” I ask lamely.
“Yeah,” says Trevor, sexy, shirtless, and totally talking about my dog when we both have erections as hard as granite. “I’m kind of weird around people I don’t know, and so I go and just … hide in my work. I’ve always been like that. I just started a job this week, in fact, and … and I’m not making friends.”
I study him carefully. His breathing is still tightened, and he certainly doesn’t look at ease. Is he really this damned nervous about sex? Is he stalling? I knew he was totally out of his element at that club but had no idea how much.
I take a breath. “You … can’t force people to like you.”
Still not looking at me, his brow furrows. “But I’m a nice guy.”
“And you can’t expect everyone to like you, either,” I go on. “Some, you can’t win over. It’s a job. Be civil with your coworkers. You only have to get along, be part of the team—” I can’t believe this is happening right now. I am so fucking hard, it aches. “—and do your job. Keep it low, keep it cool, and let them come to you.”
And let me come inside you.
“That makes sense,” he mumbles. “I guess I’ve just been—”
“You wanna keep talking about dogs and jobs and feelings?” I cut him off. “Or do you want to grab hold of my ass you’ve been staring at all night while I slide my dick inside you so hard, every nerve in your body sings?”
He freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close.
I fight a victorious smirk, then slip my hands around his back, bringing his hips against mine where they belong. “You feel that throbbing in my pants, boy?”
“I’m not a boy.”
I look down at him, boring my eyes into his face. “You feel that throbbing in my pants … Trevor?”
At the sound of his name, he shuts his eyes and bites his lip. Then, without a word, he just nods.
“That’s how bad I got it for you,” I tell him, “and it’s so bad, my pants can’t contain it anymore. Big Ben wants to come out and meet you, Trevor.”
“It’s funny,” Trevor blurts suddenly, all nervous and rambling again. “All through school, I never had time at all for a boyfriend, let alone some hook-up in a seedy downtown nightclub. Really, I’m sort of wondering who I am right now, and what he’s done with Trevor, the guy whose only goal in life was to get good grades, impress his mentors, and secure himself a successful future. You know, so as not to let down Mom and Dad. Always Mom and Dad. But what does Trevor want? I don’t know. I don’t drink wine. I don’t drink at all, actually.”
There’s a whimper at the foot of the stairs. Both of us turn. Lance stands there with wary eyes, not moving. He stares at the two of us, deadpan.
I guess he heard us talking about him.
“Lance,” murmurs Trevor thoughtfully, staring back.
I take the world’s biggest mental sigh, willing myself to be patient. Is it physically possible for a dick to explode from lack of stimulation or release? I might need to Google this in the next five seconds before I break my own balls. Four seconds … Three …
“Don’t have a lot of boyfriends?” I get out, my throat tightened and my words clipped.
In the next instant, Trevor separates from me and lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
I grab my junk, forced to adjust myself from all the tightness down there. “What? Why?”
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” I’m staring at him, completely at a loss.
Trevor backs into the coffee table, flips over it, and in his effort to regain balance, the back of his hand smacks into a candy dish, sending it flying off. The dish shatters with a loud crack that sends my dog running away. The raucous noise is replaced by the soft sounds of little candy pieces rolling and tapping along the tile.
“Oh my God!” Trevor’s hands go to his mouth. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!” He gets up. “I-I’m sorry! It was a total accident!”
