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Grey
Ican’t pretend like I didn’t like him fucking me. I can’t even pretend like I don’t want him to do it again.
I have never had sex like that before in my life.
And I’ve been a bottom a long-ass time.
“She sent me the pictures. Wanna see?” Quinn asks as he crawls into bed next to me. He doesn’t even bother lowering the kitchen table to give the illusion that he’s going to sleep on it. No, he just stripped us both down and moved right in with me. And I can’t even complain.
I want him here.
“Sure,” I say, shifting so our heads are touching, our naked bodies impossibly close.
Quinn runs a hand down my chest, holding the phone up with his other, and slowly swipes through the pictures Becca sent us.
One of us looking longingly at each other.
One of us from behind, holding hands.
One of us kissing at the waterfall, Quinn’s hands cupping my cheeks.
I can see his need in those pictures, but what’s worse, I can see mine too. It’s so transparent, it’s scary.
Can he tell what he’s doing to me? Can he see how desperate I am for him, despite how inappropriate this is?
“Look at us,” he says with a smile, turning his head and pressing his lips to mine. “We’re hot together, right? I mean, look at you, Grey. You’re a total babe.”
I huff in disbelief, but he just keeps going.
“You’re like every queer boy’s wet dream. The things I have imagined doing to you. Do you know how impossible it was to wait for you all these years?”
My eyebrows rise at that.
Quinn leans up on an elbow and glances down at me.
“I wanted to make my move when I finally turned eighteen, but I thought you’d never give me a chance if I was still in high school, so I waited. A whole other year, Grey. I waited.”
“Were you the oldest in your class?” I ask as he presses his hand to my neck and visions of him squeezing it the other day cause my dick to plump up.
Fuck, I want him to do things to me, like this morning—just take control and wreck me all in a matter of minutes.
I can’t ask him for that though. I already feel desperate enough.
“Yeah, my mom tried to unschool me for a few years. Didn’t work out and really set me back,” Quinn says. “So that’s why I’m nineteen. I was held back a year.”
“Shit, sorry,” I say, not sure what else to say. I mean, I have no fucking clue what unschooling entails, but his parents are quite odd.
“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m here now. And it was torture waiting for you, but I am so fucking glad I did.” He rolls his lips between his teeth and then mutters, “You’d never have gone for me if I was still in high school, right?”
I shake my head. “Nah.”
I mean, I’m barely going for him now. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I so fucking am.
“Want me to send these pics to you?” he asks.
I stare into his jade-colored eyes and let out a shaky exhale.
“Yeah,” I say because I want them. I want to remember this. There is no way I can let this continue once we get back. But up here in the UP, so far removed from everything, I feel like I can let go. Let myself have something I want.
