“Because I’m a bossy little fuck,” is his response. “Close them.”
I do it, because arguing would just take longer. I feel his hand land on my thigh. He lets out a sigh, runs his hand up to my hip, and gives me a squeeze. “So fucking hot. I thought so when you were seventeen, too. But the view is even better now.”
The words of praise make me swell with pride. Fine—they make me swell, period. My cock has never been so hard. With my eyes shut, I can’t anticipate Roderick’s next move. All I can do is take a deep breath and experience the drag of his fingertips across my stomach. My abs clench under his touch.
“Nice,” he whispers. “Turn your head away from me.”
I do, not knowing why. But a moment later, his lips drag along the sensitive skin on the underside of my jaw, and I groan from the contact. “Yes, fuck. Kiss me,” I beg.
Those firm lips find my neck, then my clavicle. Slowly he kisses his way to my chest. I’m dying as he licks and sucks and nibbles across my ribcage. I weave my fingers into his hair and rub my hands all over his bare shoulders and back. I want everything at once. I want kisses and a blowjob, and I want his hands to roam the way they are right now—over my knee and up my thighs.
Being tortured by Roderick is the hottest experience of my life. Not that there’s a great deal of competition for that title. I spent my teenage years trying to pretend that I was attracted to girls. Although when Susie Nordstrom put her hand down my pants on prom night, it felt pretty great. Teenage hormones powered me through a few hasty sexual encounters. I lost my virginity on the backseat of a pickup truck, like every other kid around here.
But nothing I ever did before felt as right as this. Every inch of me wants Roderick. I’m made up of yearning. And it’s not because of the tequila.
He lifts my hand to his mouth and repeats the torture he began when we were downstairs—he sucks on my thumb. On my forefinger. Then he places my wet fingers on my dick. “Jerk for me,” he says. “I want to watch you shoot.”
Making another desperate noise, I start stroking. That’s when he leans down and kisses me hotly on the mouth.
I lose my rhythm, because I’m busy adjusting the angle of my head and pushing my tongue into his mouth. Fuck, the heat and taste of him are just what I need. Stubble scrapes my lips and I just want more. I grab him with both arms and pull him down onto my chest.
“Unnngh,” he says into my mouth. He pushes his body closer to mine, scrambling to get his legs onto the bed.
His weight on my body makes me feel crazy. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. His chest is hard and warm against mine. Our mouths are fused together, and I never want it to end.
Roderick is kissing me like there’s a meteor heading for the earth, and we have five minutes to live. Each time his mouth leaves me, it returns instantly, as if he can’t get enough.
I know I can’t. I have one hand on his ass now, for leverage. I grind against him, finding a slow rhythm, but I still want more. I snake one shaking hand to the front of his jeans and pop the button.
Maybe he’ll argue. But no—he reaches down to help me, instead. We both tug down his clothes. I’m sure his jeans and underwear are still stuck around his ankles when I roll on top of him and fuck his mouth with my tongue once more. His fingernails are scratching my back, and I let out a bellow as our dicks line up and slide together.
Roderick yanks his head to the side, licks his palm, and reaches down between us, taking both of us in hand. “Go,” he says hoarsely.
I kiss him in fevered pulls as he jacks us together. “Gonna come,” I pant less than a minute later.
“Shoot all over me,” he gasps.
As if I have a choice. I blow like a canon with a moan of pure relief. I spurt twice more, seeing spots before my eyes. There’s a rush of excess heat as Roddy shudders and comes against my belly.
I collapse in the mess of us and groan, my limbs quivering, my heart racing.
“Jesus Lord,” he says in a whisper. “You don’t disappoint.”
I’m silent because my brain is gone. I manage to slide a bit sideways, so I don’t crush him. But then I bury my face in his hair and just try to breathe. Stillness settles over us while my heart rate tries to slow down.
“Are you okay?” he whispers eventually.
“I have honestly never been better,” I mumble.
His laugh is a sharp, surprised bark. “You went quiet on me.”
“Don’t like talking. Can’t top what we just did, so what’s the point?”
I can feel his smile against the side of my face. “If you regret this, I’m not going to feel okay about it.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
“A man of few words.” He reaches up and rubs one of my shoulders.
“Feel free to keep doing that.” I am spent, but my senses are still dialed up to eleven. The brush of his skin against mine is heaven. His fingers are divine.
He rolls onto his side, forcing me to do the same. “Can I kiss you again?”
Since I’ve already stated my position on excess chatter, I just lean in and offer my mouth.
He kisses me slowly, and then sighs. “I need to clean up a little.”
“I’ll bet,” I mumble. That sounds like a fine idea but I’m not up to moving. Not yet.
Roderick slips out of the bed and goes downstairs, where I hear the squeak of water pipes as he turns on the shower. A few minutes later, he reappears with a wet paper towel in his hands. “Here. You’ll regret it if you fall asleep like that.”
“Thanks.” I take the paper towel and wipe myself up the best I can.
Roderick takes it from me and throws it away somewhere. Then he reappears, tugging the comforter into place over me. “I’m staying,” he says. “Your bed is nicer than my floor. And you’re catatonic anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.” I feel the other side of the bed depress as he climbs in.
I’m too sleepy now to turn my head. But I reach a hand out, finding his chest. I stroke it once, lightly. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t ask what for. “You’re welcome,” he whispers. “Sleep tight.”
I do.
Roderick
I’m not getting up.
Maybe ever.
My limbs are heavy against silky sheets. I’m stretched out on a thick mattress. My body hasn’t known such luxury in weeks. And when I open my eyes, I see the honeyed skin of a naked man spread out on the bed beside me.
It’s basically my version of heaven.
But as my consciousness comes fully online, paradise crumbles like a poorly made pie crust. In the first place, that’s my roommate, coworker, and landlord who’s naked beside me. And I distinctly remember telling him that I wouldn’t corrupt a drunk man.
And then I did exactly that.
Secondly—and I’m just realizing that this is far worse—it’s not nearly dark enough in this room. The gray sky outside Kieran’s window means morning is arriving.
Morning. On a day when I’m supposed to open the kitchen. Oh my God. What have I done?
I bolt upright and slide out of bed, almost stepping on my phone where it rests on the floor beside my underwear. I never plugged it in last night. And now it’s obviously dead, because the alarm failed to go off at five thirty like it was supposed to.