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Our eyes clash and hold for what feels like an eternity until he breaks it, shuffling away from beneath me and standing up, running a hand through his hair.
“So…um, how about a face mask?”
I can’t even fucking think, so I just nod. I’ll do just about anything with him right about now.
“Alright, um. They’re in the bathroom.”
I follow him on wobbly legs and pull my hard cock between my waistband and my stomach. It settles there with a sigh.
I can do this. I can behave normally even though my mind is spinning.
Things can totally go back to normal between us.
That’s what he wants, and I’m sure that’s what I want as well.
Yeah, everything will be totally fine.
EIGHT
Damon
I think I was high. I had to have been on something. Tomas storming into my room, fucking me with the dildo, and then coming on my leg was a dream. Right?
No. It wasn’t a dream. The fact that Carter is blowing up my phone in excitement tells me it was far too real.
The fans loved it. They want more.
“Who’s texting you?” Tomas asks, his face set in a nice cream mask. He looks ridiculously sexy despite it. I don’t think there’s ever a time when he’s looked anything but delicious.
“Carter. He said what you did was a hit despite no one seeing a thing.” They could hear him. Hear us. And apparently that was enough.
I arch an eyebrow at him and watch as Tomas shifts on his feet, leaning against the bathroom counter and folding and unfolding his arms across his chest.
“Yeah…I um. Fuck.”
I don’t want to freak him out. “No worries. It doesn’t matter. It’s all moot now anyways. Come on. Let’s wash up.”
I reach out, wetting a washrag and handing it to him, showing him how to gently wipe the cream off his face. He scrubs at his skin instead, leaving me frowning.
“God, Tomas. Try and be gentle with your face.”
He eyes me as I wipe my face clean, and I take in his slightly pink cheeks.
“Sorry,” he says, and I think he means for more than this face mask.
“Please don’t be,” I say and then reach out and swipe away a bit of mask that he missed.
My hand lingers a little too long on his skin and I swear the two of us stop breathing.
“Your skin is really fucking soft,” he nearly whispers and my mind flashes to the fact that his dick was on my thigh earlier, rutting against it like an animal.
“I’m smooth all over. It’s called maintenance,” I manage to say, trying to be silly but end up sounding horny instead.
Tomas’s eyes slide to my lips and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Well, you’re making it very hard to be good,” I rasp, and Tomas takes a step back, my hand falling from his face.
I feel suddenly distraught, like my earlier proclamation was a bit silly and far too soon. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said we couldn’t keep this up. Perhaps the hurt in the end would be worth it.
