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He knocks his head back against the wall, and I wince at the thud. “He left. He turned, looked at me. He fucking looked at me, like he knew I’d been there all along, then he opened the door of the house and left. He was never found. Police declared him missing since then.”
No wonder he always wears black.
“Holy shit, Jet.” I lift my other hand to his face, rub his rough stubble with my thumb. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He just shrugs, his expression unreadable.
“And your cousin calling you all the time? What’s that about?” He ducks his face, but I’m not letting him hide again, not after this. I grab his chin and turn it back toward me. “Tell me. I wanna help you.”
“It’s… not connected to that.” He won’t look at me, though, and I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or not.
I brush my thumb over his mouth. Soft. Warm. He inhales sharply.
“Fine. I’ll let you off the hook for that one. For now.” I brush his mouth again and his lips part, his breath washing warm over my thumb.
I lean closer, press his arm harder on the wall. My intention is to tell him it’s gonna be okay. That he has me, now, that I’ll look after him. We’re best buddies, thick as thieves.
What happens, though, is that I’m kissing him, my tongue slipping into his mouth, my lips desperately moving over his. Our bodies slam together, his hand comes up to my head, clutches the back of my neck, keeping our mouths fused.
Oh hell. He’s hard, hardening against my leg, and I shift without a second thought, aligning our cocks. They press together through our pants, and he groans in my mouth—or maybe I’m the one groaning. I can’t tell.
Not sure what’s happening, but it feels amazing. It feels right, to be kissing him, touching him, and the way he’s kissing me back, holding me close… frenzied, desperate, a little rough. Fuck, yeah. It makes my dick throb and my balls twitch.
I only wish Candy were here, but then he bites on my lower lip, and my brain short-circuits. I can practically feel the blood rushing to my dick, feel it swell, pressing so painfully against my zipper I gasp and release his arm to reach down and adjust myself before permanent damage is caused.
His hand follows mine, cups my dick through my pants. He squeezes and I buck into his palm, not caring about anything but some friction to ease the pressure.
His tongue battles with mine and we pant, lips on lips, biting and breathing each other’s oxygen, hard, open-mouthed kisses that turn my blood to molten lava.
I push his hand away from my crotch to place it on his. His hard-on is a steel rod in his jeans, and we palm it, my hand on top of his. I drag his hand up and down his dick, feeling him shudder, feeling his dick harden more.
He wrenches his mouth from mine to moan, his head falling back. I suck on his neck, on his salty skin, stroking him harder, faster.
His legs tremble, spread wider, his eyes fall shut as a hissing breath escapes him. “Yes.”
His cock jerks under our hands, and it sends shock waves right into my dick. He clamps a hand on my shoulder, his hips rocking, wetness seeping through his pants.
Holy shit. I raise my head to watch him as he comes, and I bite back a moan at the blissed-out expression on his face.
After the last tremor fades, he sighs. Slowly his lashes lift and he gazes at me, his eyes hazy, pupils blown. “Damn, I wanna suck you off.”
I blink, my mind not processing. I open my mouth to reply, but find nothing to say.
Fuck no.
Hell yeah.
Christ, what am I doing?
By then, he’s the one pushing me back, until I hit the counter, and he puts his hands on my zipper. “Don’t you think Candy would like to watch this?” he whispers darkly. “Wouldn’t it turn her on?”
A choked-back moan is the best I can do in way of reply as he pulls down the zipper and shoves down my pants and briefs.
My cock springs free, slapping my stomach, and I moan.
I grip the edge of the counter so tightly it presses painfully into my palms, but I barely feel it. “I’m not… Jet.”
His hand strokes over my cock. His gaze is locked on it. “What do you have to lose? All that can happen is that you won’t like it.”
