Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(30)

He’s placed his phone on his dresser, giving me a view of his entire room.

If asked my favorite body part on someone, a few months ago, my answer never would’ve been Miller’s thick and powerful thighs. But as he lies down and lifts the leg closest to the camera, hiding his monster cock, my mouth dries at the sight.

His eyes meet mine. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get yourself off” falls out of my mouth, and I hope he doesn’t call me on my obviousness. I’m not so lucky. Of course not. This is Miller. The only guy in the world to truly call me on my shit.

“Oh. I thought you, like, wanted me to knit you a sweater or something.”

I go to snipe back, but all playfulness leaves when he drops that powerful thigh and exposes the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. And I’ve lived in locker rooms. I’ve noticed way too many for a supposed straight guy. “I don’t think you’d be able to knit with that.”

Miller throws his head back and laughs, but then he stares down at his cock as he reaches for it.

His erection is long and thick and only appears bigger when his beefy hand wraps around the hard shaft. He strokes himself slowly, and I swallow hard.

“Are you hard?” he asks, his voice husky.

Am I hard? I don’t think I’ve been so fucking horny in my life.

I palm my cock through my boxers. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he closes his eyes, and his lips part.

Licking his hand, he uses his spit as lube and strokes himself faster. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Miller do this—one of our many favorite things we used to do was have him get himself off while he watched me with someone else—but it’s the first time I’ve actually paid real attention to his hand while he’s doing it.

Precum leaks in my boxers, and I pull the waistband down and tuck it under my balls so my cock springs free.

Miller doesn’t make a move to watch me. When he does open his eyes, his focus stays on his cock as the muscles in his arm flex.

Someone moans, and I think it’s me, but I honestly can’t be sure. My attention is only on Miller as he works his hand up and down, slowly increasing pace.

His hips buck off the bed as he fucks his own hand, and that’s the image that makes me give in to my own need.

The first touch has my whole body shuddering. I’m not going to last long. The last time jerking off felt this good was during training camp, right after I got Miller to his room. These past few weeks, when I’ve been exploring many, many clips of gay porn, none of those orgasms compare to the one building inside me.

No more words are spoken, and I don’t even know if Miller’s aware of what I’m doing. He closes his eyes, and his jaw hardens as if he’s gritting his teeth, but it’s when he makes the telltale grunt right before he comes that has me spilling into my own hand.

My muscles tense to the point of aching and drag out my orgasm until I’m completely spent.

Five seconds later, white ropes of cum cover Miller’s stomach, and he collapses back, sinking into his mattress.

The only sound between us is heavy breathing, and Miller still refuses to look at me, but I can’t stop staring at his long body.

Miller’s hand absentmindedly runs through the cum on his stomach, and the question in my head appears without much though.

I wonder what he tastes like.

“You okay?” Miller asks, pulling my gaze away.

He’s finally looking at me, and I wonder how long he’s had his eyes open and if he cares about me staring at him with that much intensity.

My lips quirk, and I pan my phone down to show the mess I’ve made of myself. “Never better. Shame you missed it.”

Miller’s still breathing heavy. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Guilt I can’t explain consumes me, and when I force myself to speak, I can’t get my words above a whisper. “I may not know what’s going on with me, but I can say with complete certainty that you could never make me uncomfortable.”

Miller’s eyes soften, and he looks relieved.

“And what about you?” I ask. “This seems to be a lot easier for you than your average straight guy.”

He hesitates. “I told you I’d thought about you in that way.”

That doesn’t mean this wouldn’t or shouldn’t be as weird for him as it is for me.

“Have you thought about other guys that way?” I don’t know if I want to know the answer.

Miller breaks eye contact again. “I’ve been with guys before.”

Yup, I didn’t want to know that. My chest tightens, and while I can’t be sure because it’s never happened to me before, I think it’s jealousy. Which is ridiculous. I’ve been in the very same room while Miller’s been with women. Why does the gender of his hookups matter?

“When?” I ask.

Miller gets out of bed to take his phone from the dresser. He lies back down, and his face is back to being the only thing to fill my screen.

“Do you really want to know?”

No! “Yes.”

“There were a few guys senior year of college.”

Senior year. After I left. I must make a face or something, because he keeps talking.

“I needed to know if what I felt for you was for you or for guys in general.”