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“Shut up, or I’ll smack you.”
“Now you’re exactly like my mom.”
He raised his head, and I slid the pillow under his head and covered him with the blanket. “Good night.”
“You too, buddy. Give him hell.”
17
The sounds of moaning grew stronger as I got closer to the bedroom. I cranked open the door and saw Chris on his back with Anthony on top of him, both breathing into each other's faces like there was nobody else in the world. Anthony’s ass moved like a wave between Chris’s open legs, his sweaty back glimmering in the moonlight coming through the window.
“I’m close,” Anthony panted. “Can I come inside?”
Chris nodded. “Yes.”
Anthony tilted his head back and let out a deep growl that sounded both sensual and animalistic. That growl went on for a solid ten seconds, then Anthony slumped on top of Chris, squashing him under his sweaty body. I couldn’t see his face because it was buried in the pillow, but Chris' face was a mix of peace and exhaustion, his hair stuck to his forehead.
With a sigh, Anthony rolled on his side and asked Chris, “You okay?”
“I might be pregnant.”
Anthony smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I should go clean before I drip on the bed.” Chris got up carefully and started walking funny because of the way he was clenching his ass cheeks. I couldn’t help myself and laughed.
He stopped next to me and punched my shoulder. “Fuck you.”
“Sorry.”
He wobbled out of the room, and I was left with still panting Anthony, all naked and sprawled on the bed.
“You okay, Ant?”
With his eyes still closed, he nodded. “I gave it to him good.”
“You sure did.”
“We did it in four different positions. Or was it five? Yeah, I think it was five. But man, being a top is exhausting. Feels like I ran a marathon.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 2 a.m.”
“Yeah, Jay’s sleeping on the couch.”
“I better grab a shower and go to sleep as well. I’ll stay in the other bedroom.”
I was about to say he shouldn’t leave on my account, but if I was going to have sex with Chris, Anthony wasn’t going to catch much shuteye in here.
He pushed himself up and yawned, then walked toward me. The smell he was sending my way was so profound it was almost tangible. If someone would ever produce a perfume with the scent of sex, it ought to smell like Anthony did in those moments.
“You look like a mess,” I said and added, “a hot mess, mind you.”
Am I flirting with Anthony?It felt even weirder than kissing him.
He stopped in front of me. “I can live with being a hot mess.”
I placed my palms on his chest, over the tangled black hairs. It still felt odd feeling a man’s chest like that, even odder realizing how nice the feeling was, and how quickly it was becoming natural. “Your heart’s still beating fast,” I said.
“Feels like it. You ready for your turn with him?”
I was about to say that I was, but I ended up saying, “I’m not sure.”
