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“Paul.” Brendon’s voice is guttural and heavy. It sends shivers up my spine. I roll my hips harder against him and smile when his eyes heat. I feel victorious, like I won a battle. Fuck, this is magical. I had girlfriends in high school that I fooled around and had sex with, but it wasn’t like this. The connection I have with Brendon is different. It was there before anything sexual happened. It makes this more important. Stronger.
But is it the same for him? Is this once again a causal thing that he’ll walk away from? The thought stings.
Grabbing his wrists, I hold them above his head. The move lowers my head, and I drag my nose against his. His breath comes in pants with little whimpers, the warm air fanning over my cheeks, and I can feel him harden under me.
I love him like this, at my mercy and waiting for what I’ll do next. I’ve imagined touching him so many times over the last few years, but I never thought it would actually happen. Now that it’s here, I’m almost afraid of it. What if I do something he doesn’t like? What if he decides we aren’t compatible? Can I go back to just being his friend now that I know what his lips taste like?
I don’t think I can.
For months, since he moved in here at the beginning of summer, I feel like I’ve been edged. Pining after him, getting closer and closer to him seeing me as something more than just his friend, but I’m fucking scared. What if it’s just me? What if I’m reading into shit that’s not really there?
“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me?” Brendon plants his feet on the floor and uses the position to grind up against me.
“I’ll kiss you when I’m good and goddamn ready.” I nip at his bottom lip, and he hisses. Dragging the tip of my tongue along the edge, I soothe the sting.
I stare at his mouth, moving so close there’s barely a whisper between us, and Brendon balls his hands into fists. I can’t help but smirk at the frustration radiating from him.Now you know how I’ve felt for months.Knowing I’m getting to him is a special kind of high I wasn’t expecting.
The shrill of an old telephone rings out, and we both freeze. Fuck.
I hurriedly climb off Brendon and dig through the blankets on his bed for my phone.
“Hey, Grandma,” I say, a little breathless.
“Pauly, how are you?” Her voice usually wraps around me like a warm hug, but since I’m still hard, it’s just awkward.
“I’m good, how are you? Are the chickens laying eggs?”
Brendon forces himself off the floor and gets back onto my bed to watch the game again. He not-so-subtly adjusts himself while giving me the side-eye, and I smile at him. I’m not sorry he’s hard because of me, but I also don’t really know what to do about it. I have no experience here.
“The damn hens started laying but one is broody.” She sighs. “Damn birds.”
There’s a crash in the background followed by my grandpa’s laughter.
“Richard!” Grandma hollers. “Stop playing with the dog in the house!”
I chuckle at her exasperated tone. She’s been telling him the same thing my entire life. Grandpa has always been a big kid; it’s one of the things I love about him. He would take me out fishing, and we’d screw around all afternoon, coming back filthy, sunburnt, and starving but laughing. He tried so hard to make up for the fact that my dad wasn’t around much after Mom died.
“Fucking hell,” Grandma says under her breath. “I gotta go. They broke a glass.”
“All right, I love you.”
“Love you, Pauly boy.”
We hang up, and I settle back on the disaster that is Brendon’s bed. He never makes the damn thing, which drives me crazy, but whatever. I grab my school stuff and get back to work, ignoring Brendon’s hooting and hollering at the TV.
Images of Brendon keep filtering through my head, though. Naked, tied to his bed, at my mercy while I ride his dick and not letting him come. Does his entire body flush red? Would he let me tie him up? Would he let me fuck him?
Picking up my phone, I find a sex toy store and browse for butt plugs and prostate massagers. I wonder what that feels like . . . Not giving myself time to think about it, I add two toys and some lube to my cart and check out.
My face is on fire, and I really fucking hope he doesn’t look over here.
There’s a knock on the door, and we look at each other. Neither of us is expecting anyone. I shrug, and Brendon gets up to answer it.
“Oh good, you are awake.” That sickly sweet, fake voice from earlier hits my ears, and I lift my lip in irritation. “Did you get my messages?”
Brendon stands there in the doorway awkwardly. “Uh . . .”
I drop my head to hide my smile but peer at them and watch her face fall a little.
