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I run a hand through my hair again and feel my chest constrict.
Holden cocks his head like he’s trying to figure me out. “Wanna smoke and then fuck?”
My mouth opens and then closes and then opens again. I’m like a fish out of water.
“I’ve never…” I squeak out, and he smiles softly at me.
“Oh, a weed virgin. Why is that, Chase?” he asks, poking a finger into my chest.
“Played football,” I say, like that explains everything.
Holden’s eyebrows go up. “No wonder you’re so big. Let me guess. Linebacker?”
I nod, and his hand flattens on my chest. “I can so see that.”
My heart thumps against his palm, almost like it’s trying to beat out of my chest so it can be cradled in his hand.
“So, what do you say? Wanna have a little fun?”
I should say no. I said no earlier and yet, here I am, nodding and letting him pull a joint out of his pocket and light it up.
Right in the middle of my apartment. This has to be against the rules, right? Maybe they’ll kick me out, and I won’t have to make the choice to leave myself. Maybe they will ship me home at first light.
“Don’t worry. I grow this myself. It’s organic and totally fucking pure.”
He takes a long drag and then hands it to me. Gingerly, I take it, place it at my lips, and inhale. I’ve smoked a lot of cigars with my dad and brothers, but never weed. And yet, I’m surprised when I find myself coughing loudly as I choke on it.
Holden is smirking at me, and I feel my cheeks heat.
“I have brownies if you’d prefer that,” he says as he takes another long drag. “Smoking really is a skill. Need to learn how to suck.”
I shake my head, ignoring his snark, and then hold up my hand when he offers me another hit. I don’t want one. I’m already starting to feel a little weird. He says it’s pure, but I don’t really know him. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth.
Or maybe this weird feeling is just Holden infiltrating my space. I’m already a little lightheaded just being near him.
Smoke escapes his mouth as his hand lands on the waistband of my pajama pants.
“Undress,” he says, his voice low and raspy.
I stare at him, not sure if I should. I know what happened last time I got naked around him. I lost all my common sense and fucked a dude.
Holden walks over and snuffs the joint out in the kitchen sink and then moves toward me, pulling his shirt off, and showing me that sculpted chest. I wonder how he keeps himself so defined. Maybe he swims every morning, pulling himself up on his surfboard over and over.
I’d like to watch that, watch him ride the waves.
“Go on. Clothes off,” he says, but I can’t move. I’m just frozen.
Holden stops in front of me and runs a hand across my bare chest. My entire body trembles at the touch.
“Oh, Chase,” he says, and then that hand travels down to my cock and he cups it. It’s already hard and pressing out against my pajama bottoms. “I love how tentative you are. It’s so different…surprising.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Hard. It hurts, but it’s not enough to keep me from arching into his touch, into his hand.
“You like it. My attention. You fucking want more, don’t you?” he says in a sultry voice.
I can’t answer because I don’t even know if I do, but here I am, my eyes rolling back into my head as I let him stroke me. He’s not even touching my bare dick and yet, I’m so close. This is what happens when you grew up in a family that stigmatized sex. Fuck purity culture. Not that I ever really was pure. And I sure as fuck am not pure now, am I, Mom and Dad? I’m letting a stranger touch my dick. Another dude.
They would die if they knew.
