AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why would I want you to manhandle me?” I arch my brow in his direction and take another bite of egg toast.
“You call me big guy.”
“It’s a fitting nickname.”
“And you groaned ‘fuck that’s hot’ when I hauled you against me last night.”
“You were pounding my prostate and jerking my dick. Totally hot. And also, fuck buddy etiquette says you can’t hold people responsible for what they say when you’re stroking their cock. It’s like, shit said under duress or something.”
“Would it be against fuck buddy etiquette to say I bet if I toss you over my shoulder that’ll make you hard?”
“That wouldn’t be a stretch since this conversation is making me hard.” I look pointedly at my crotch.
“So, you’re saying I’m right.” He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest.
Damn those blue orbs shine when he’s feeling frisky.
“I’m saying there’s only one way to find out.” I shoot off the stool and round the island, putting that big hunk of cabinetry between us. Noah jumps up in a flash, crouching slightly so he’s ready to spring whichever direction I choose to run.
I probably should’ve put more thought into challenging a professional goalie not to catch me.
“Think you can outrun me?” Noah smirks.
“I think I’m lighter on my feet than you.” Faking right, I quickly change course and go left, heading for the back door. I twist the handle and throw it open, launching myself over the threshold and clearing the two flagstone stairs before I hit the patio and take off running. But I only make it a few feet before I hear a strangled wail and a heavy thud.
The brat in me wants to believe he’s using some sort of ploy to catch me off guard, but since I’d be perfectly happy to be caught and tossed over his shoulder I play along, skidding to a halt and turning to face my pursuer. Only he’s not pursuing me. He’s lying on the ground, reaching for his ankle with a strained grimace on his face.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Not only do I have zero fucking clue what to do with hurt people, I don’t do well with guilt, which I’m feeling pretty heavily right now since my stupid game of chase is what’s got the big guy writhing on the floor, and not in an ‘I just blew the biggest load ever’ way.
I give myself three point seven seconds to freak the fuck out then trot back to Noah and crouch down next to him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. “Are you okay?”
He shoots me an incredulous glare.
“I mean, obviously you’re not, but, is this like one of those ‘I need a minute’ things or this is a full-blown ‘something’s broken’ thing?
“Somewhere in the middle.” He closes his eyes, chest rising dramatically on a deep breath that he seems to hold for a few seconds before letting it slowly out.
“Right. And that means what exactly? Do I help you get inside or call a doctor or…” The corner of my lip tries to tick upward, and I press them together to try to keep them flat.
Noah blinks me into focus and cringes. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not.” I slap my hand over my mouth, which doesn’t do anything to stop my lips from twitching except hopefully make it less noticeable.
“Now you’re laughing?”
“I… No.” I shake my head vigorously back and forth, never taking my hand off my mouth.
“This is funny to you?” Anger and hurt war for dominance in his eyes.
I purse my lips together so hard I bet they’re turning white, which he hopefully can’t see under my hand, and shake my head.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking laughing.”
The number of swears in that sentence is telling, yet I can’t make my face look empathetic. I’ve never been able to. Until now, I thought that was because I wasn’t empathetic, but I do actually care about what happens to Noah, so it must be genetic or something.
“I’m not… Laughing isn’t the right…” Dammit I’m making it worse. “It’s a condition,” I finally squeak mid-giggle.
