I threw up the armrest between us and lunged for his face with my own, crashing my lips down on his in what was probably an overeager kiss. He shoved me off, sputtering, and put his strong hands on my shoulders to push me down. Ah, okay. He wanted a blow job.
I was cool with that. It was for sure on the long list of sex acts I’d barely gotten a chance to begin checking off in my brief time on earth. Despite never having done it before, I had full confidence in my abilities to at least give it my full enthusiasm.
After quickly dropping to my knees on the nasty cement floor, I reached for his open fly and took him out.
Oh god I might come again just from touching it. It’s a hard fucking penis. In my hands. And it’s not mine. Jesus.
I lurched forward with little to no grace and put my mouth on it. We both groaned, and I felt the chair at my back shift. Was someone sitting that close to us and we hadn’t realized it?
Who the fuck cares—I have a cock in my mouth. An actual stiff cock.
I licked and sucked like a newborn calf, hungry for any positive reaction out of the guy above me. The sounds he made were like gold stars on a child’s work sheet, and I tried diligently to earn more. It seemed to last forever but was probably only about ten point five seconds before he was yanking on my hair and coming all over my face.
Thank god for the supply of napkins I still had in my pocket.
After cleaning up the second time, I lay back in my chair, feeling triumphant. I was the king of sex. I was the motherfucking king of cocks and orgasms. Hopefully, someone had seen that display of manly perfection I’d just put on. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
I just gave Curtis Billingham head and rocked it.
Who was I going to tell first? For sure my brother Hudson. And maybe—
“Don’t tell anyone what we did,” he warned in a growly voice—the mean kind of growl, not the sexy kind.
I let out a breath. Fuck.
Fuck.
I should have realized he was one of those guys—happy in the closet and not about to tell anyone his “shameful secret.” His antigay rhetoric hadn’t been a front after all. It had been real.
My face felt numb. I couldn’t decide if it was from the oral calisthenics I’d done or the sting of humiliation I felt at having gone down on someone who clearly didn’t want me for more than that. Had I really not realized the guy was only using me to get off?
I felt like an idiot. Like I should have known it was all too good to be true.
“Why not?” I asked anyway, unable to look at him.
His voice came out high and squeaky. “Are you fucking kidding? My dad would kick my ass. And probably yours too.”
“He will not. What makes you even say that? Tons of people in this town are gay.”
After I used the “g” word, he sucked in a breath. “Will you lower your goddamned voice, West? I’m not gay, you idiot. Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Fine,” I said, lowering to a quieter whisper. “You just got blown by a dude. Wanna explain how you’re not gay? You asked me out, remember?”
If looks could kill, he’d be sitting next to my corpse.
“I’m sixteen and horny as fuck,” he snapped. “Assumed a pretty mouth like yours could suck cock with the best of them, so I decided to test my theory. You’ve been making eyes at me for weeks. It doesn’t make me gay to take someone up on their obvious desire to blow me.”
Humiliation bloomed hot all over my body. He hadn’t been interested in me, just a willing orifice? I stared at him. “You gave me a hand job first. Not to mention you’re the one who offered to blow me in Spanish class, not the other way around.”
“So I got the words wrong. I never was any good at Spanish.”
Seriously? The guy was an ass. Why hadn’t I seen that? Was I that bad of a judge of character? No, mostly just that blind with lust and hormones. I felt so stupid. I’d thought it was the start of having my first boyfriend—someone who’d show me off and flirt with me in halls at school. Someone who’d come to family dinner and cheer for me during our family’s crazy board game competitions.
Someone who’d smile when I walked in a room and kiss me just because.
I’d been so wrong. So naive.
“Not a word about this, West,” he snarled. “You don’t want this getting back to my father. Trust me on that.”
“What makes you think he’s such a homophobe?”