Him (Him #1)(43)

Now’s not the time to dwell on it, though.

“Give it to me,” I say roughly, beckoning to his erection.

His eyebrows go up, the barbell catching the light. “You feel like returning the favor?”

When I nod, he moves closer and straddles my shoulders, then grabs the second pillow on the bed and tucks it under my head. The added height brings my mouth to cock-level. I swallow, then flick my tongue around the head.

“I’m almost there,” he admits.

“Yeah?” I tip my gaze up, but keep my mouth on him, lightly scraping my teeth over his dick.

A soft groan escapes his lips.

I release him with a chuckle. “Didn’t we have a whole convo about stamina last night?”

“That was before I spent twenty minutes fingering your ass.”

I shiver at the memory. Jesus, I’m getting hard again. It’s like I can’t get enough of this guy.

“Turned you on, huh?” I drawl.

“Oh yeah.” He nudges his cockhead forward, and I open my mouth, letting him slide inside.

My hands drift around his body to cup his ass. I squeeze and he groans again, pushing in a bit deeper. With my hands occupied, it’s hard to control how much of him I take, but he’s not a jerk about it. He doesn’t plunge deep and force any deep-throat action on me. He seems to sense my limits, the same way he senses shit on the ice—when to pass the puck, when to take his time until that perfect opening reveals itself so he can slap one in.

He f*cks my mouth in fast, shallow strokes that match his fast, shallow breathing. I taste his pre-come on my tongue. It’s a heady flavor that makes me wonder how it would feel flooding my mouth, sliding down my throat. Never in a million years did I think I’d be contemplating that. Or that I’d be kneading another man’s ass cheeks, urging him to orgasm while I clamp my lips around his dick.

“Coming,” he warns.

I stick with him until the end this time. The first hot spurt hits my tongue, the second goes to the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex. I breathe through my nose and swallow, my heart pounding as my best friend gasps through the orgasm.

That wasn’t…bad. The taste of him is strangely appealing.

I indulge in one more lick before allowing him to pull out. He collapses beside me, his head resting on my shoulder. We both release a sated sigh, then laugh.

Silence stretches between us, but it’s not an awkward one. We’re both relaxed. My mind drifts in a post-sex haze, where thinking is overrated.

“We should probably head to the dining hall before dinner ends,” Wes says. “Don’t want to miss the big show.”

Right. The song. Someone—ahem, Wes—had decided the coaches should serenade the kids with some good ol’ Britney Spears. Pat had griped and complained, claiming he didn’t know the words to any of her songs. Wes, of course, had promptly whipped out his phone and emailed the older coaches the lyrics to Britney’s entire catalogue. Very resourceful, my best friend.

I’m too relaxed to move, though. “Five more minutes,” I tell him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders to prevent him from getting up.

His cheek nuzzles my left pec. “You’re a cuddle whore, huh?”

I am. Absolutely. Just never dreamed I’d be cuddling with another guy.

“I watched porn earlier,” I blurt out.

He snickers. “Yeah, I figured. You had that guilty, I-just-tugged-one-out look when I walked in.”

I pause. “Gay porn.”

He tilts his head up to look at me, his gray eyes twinkling playfully. “Uh-huh. I see. Did you enjoy it?”

Another pause. Then I puff out a breath. “Yeah.”

Wes lowers his head again, rubbing a soothing hand over my stomach. “Freaked you out, huh?”

“Well…” It’s not easy to explain. “I’m a little freaked out about not being freaked out. If that makes sense.”

We go silent again. I can tell he’s absorbing what I just told him.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmur.

“Hit me.” His breath tickles my nipple, and it hardens. Instantly.

“Have you ever…” I’m not sure how to phrase it. “Bottomed? Is that the right word?”

His shoulders tremble as if he’s trying not to laugh. “As good a word as any. ‘Been f*cked’ also works. ‘Taken it up the ass’, also a goodie.”

“Okay. Well?”

He shifts a bit. “Yeah. I have. Once.”

“Just once?” I guess I’m not surprised. Wes has “top” written all over him. “Did you like it?”

He considers it. “Not at the beginning. And definitely not at the end. But it was pretty good in the middle.”

Classic Wes answer. I burst out laughing, my palm sliding over his bare arm before I give his biceps a pinch. “Um…what happened at the beginning and end?”

“The beginning, it hurt.” His tone is rueful. “But that’s probably ’cause we were both eighteen-year-old morons and neither one of us thought to bring lube.”

Eighteen. For some reason that makes me bristle. I wonder if it was before or after our last night at camp. Before, I’d be okay with. But after… Not sure why, but the thought of Wes cutting me out of his life and then going off to lose his virginity to some dude pisses me off.