Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(55)

Twenty-Three





DEX





I turn my phone over and over in my hands, waiting for Tripp’s answer. The whole time he’s been out, the question has been eating at me, worrying me. Doesn’t he want to have sex with me?

All I know is if he’s having second thoughts about our relationship, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.

Is he only following through with this because he feels like he doesn’t have another choice? Urg.

“Uh … Dex? What do you think we’ve been doing the past few weeks?”

“No, like …” I make a circle with my forefinger and thumb, then poke my other finger through it.

Tripp cracks up laughing. “Why aren’t we fucking, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

Hearing him laugh loosens some of that dread I’d worked myself up to, and I finally turn to face him.

He has a weird look on his face as he studies me. “I thought you liked my mouth …” Tripp reaches for my dick, and I quickly snatch up his hand. If he touches me, I’ll get distracted again, and nope. We are having this conversation.

“Tripp, I’m serious. Do you …” I clear my throat. “I mean, I read lots of gay dudes don’t do that, so do you just not like it?”

“Nope. I’m pro penetration.”

“So it’s me, then?”

“It’s not …” Tripp presses his lips together, and I think for a second that he’s mad. Then he smiles. “I didn’t realize what we were doing wasn’t enough for you.”

“No, it is. I love it all. But that’s why I want to try it.” And the grossness from today’s game finally starts to recede as excitement at doing this takes over. “Can we? Please?”

“Like I’d ever say no to you.” He grins, but I don’t return it.

“You can though. Always.”

“I know. That’s not what I—”

“Why are you hesitating? Is it a me thing? You don’t want to go there because it’s me? Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t want you to ever think I have a problem with you.” Tripp turns to face me and grips my hands, which are nervously wringing together. “It’s not … you.” Tripp blinks up at me, and I believe him, but it makes me want to ask what is it, then? But I have to admit, I think I’m scared to hear the answer. If it’s not me, maybe it’s us. Maybe it’s the pressure of making it feel good—I get that with chicks sometimes. Performance anxiety can be a bitch, so instead of putting that on him, I back down.

“If you don’t, it’s fine. I’ll let you suck me off instead.”

“My husband. So generous.”

He hasn’t denied it though. Ouch.

“Dex …” Tripp tackles me into the couch and grinds his hard cock into my thigh. “Does it feel like I don’t want to?”

“Well, mini Tripp seems on board.”

“Fuck you. Don’t call my cock that.”

“Oh yeah? Make me.”

He shoves me, and all talk of sex is forgotten as we play fight, trying to knock each other off the couch. I finally get Tripp in a headlock when we both go tumbling to the floor.

“Ah, shit.” Tripp laughs, and I roll us so I’m hovering over him.

I peck his freckled nose. “Will you do it?”

He opens his mouth, then quickly closes it again.

“I can ask that now, can’t I? You said I can ask if we’re fucking, so can I finally know if you top or bottom?”

“I’m versatile.”

“Oh, really …” Immediately, I’m thinking of all the ways we can explore this new development. “Tripp flips.” I snigger. “Dex has sex with Tripp who flips.”

“Yeah, gotta tell you, Dr. Seuss is not a turn-on.”

“You don’t wanna see my green eggs and ham?”

“Gross. What is it tonight with people and euphemisms that don’t even make sense?”

I tilt my head. “Do I want to know?”

“You really don’t.”

Fair enough. If Oskar’s involved, I’ll take Tripp’s word for it. I lean down and kiss him, a long, satisfied hum leaving me as his tongue meets mine. The worst thing about game nights is it means hours without Tripp’s mouth on me.

Tripp’s hands close over my ass, and my hips tilt forward into his. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Mhmm. Yes. Definitely. Please.”

He smiles against my lips. “You’re very … enthusiastic.”

“I’ve seen how turned on it makes you when I shove my fingers up there, and … I dunno. There’s something really hot about the thought of your cock filling me.”

He inhales sharply. “Yes, there really is.”

“So you’ll do it? Gonna make love to me, Trippy?”

His eyes shoot wide and meet mine.

“Gonna finally show me some butt love?”

“I’ll show your butt some pent-up sexual frustration.”

“Close enough.” I stand, and I haul Tripp to his feet. I’m not nervous, exactly. It’s more that I’m worried I won’t like it when I really, really want to.