chapter thirty-five
Aston
It’s past midnight by the time I finally get back to my room. Anderson is nowhere to be found, and I’m actually thankful to have the room to myself. My head is all over the place tonight and I need to be alone with my thoughts.
Running into Knox earlier was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. It’s been a month since I ended it—whatever “it” was—and I fucking miss him. We were only hooking up for a couple of months, but everything got so intense so quickly with him, and I fell harder than I realized.
Pulling out my phone, I send a text to my brother to see if he’s planning on coming back tonight. He’s been spending a lot of time with Calina lately. Of course, I’m happy for him, but I’m kind of hating on everyone’s happiness right now.
After setting my phone on the bed, I head over to the closet, getting undressed down to my briefs. I’m fucking exhausted, more mentally than physically, and some sleep would do me some good.
Just as I’m throwing my clothes in the hamper, my phone starts ringing on my bed. Assuming it’s Anderson calling me instead of texting back, I’m stunned when I look and see it’s not Anderson at all.
It’s Knox.
Physically backing up as if it’s on fire, a chill courses through my entire body. My hands are instantly clammy, and my stomach is sitting up in my throat. What the fuck could he possibly want?
Unable to do anything other than stare, the ringing finally stops, and I let out a shaky breath. I did the right thing by not answering it.
Yeah, I did.
But it rings again. It’s Knox again. What the fuck.
Picking it up, I hit accept and bring the phone to my ear. I don’t say anything, I can’t. I don’t know what the fuck to say.
“Aston?”
Closing my eyes, another violent chill runs through me at the sound of my name on his lips.
“Aston, are you there, man?”
“I’m here,” I finally whisper, my breath sounding shaky and unsure.
“Hey, uh, I saw you earlier at the frat house. Didn’t get a chance to say hi, so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I don’t offer up anything in response. What is there to say?
We spend several agonizing moments not saying anything. Climbing in bed, I burrow under the covers and shut my eyes. With the lights off, my eyes closed, and the sound of his soft breathing in my ear, I can almost pretend he’s here with me… Almost.
“I miss you,” he admits, voice just above a raspy whisper.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
His deep, husky voice sends a tingle directly to my traitorous cock, that’s now twitching behind my underwear. My hand slides under the covers, cupping myself over my briefs.
“What do you want, Knox? It’s late.”
“You, Aston. I want you,” he says so casually, as if his confession doesn’t knock me completely off my axis. Groaning, I squeeze myself a little tighter, willing myself to not fall for this.
“What are you doing right now?” he asks.
“Lying in bed.” Trying not to jack off to the sound of your fucking asshole voice.
“What are you wearing?”
“Really?” I snort. “You’re asking me what I’m fucking wearing?”
“Yeah, I am. Answer the damn question, Aston.” I swallow hard at his demand, hating the reaction I’m having to him.
“Just my underwear.”
He groans loudly through the phone, and it does things to my insides. I’m going down a bad fucking road, I know it, yet I can’t seem to hang up.
“Are you hard?”
I don’t answer right away. Knowing where this is headed, I try to muster up the strength to end this. Never claimed to be smart or strong when it came to all things Knox Finnegan, though. “Yes,” I finally admit.
“Fuck, Aston.”
“What are you doing right now?” I finally ask in return. Clearly, trying to hurt my own feelings.
“Lying in bed, too.”
“At your house?”
“Yeah, where else would I be?”
“Maybe some chick’s house,” I bite out, internally berating myself the second those words leave my mouth.
“Don’t be like that, Aston.”
“Why’d you call me, Knox?”
“I… I don’t know, okay? Fuck, you think I like thinking about you constantly? Think I like seeing you with Travis earlier and wanting to murder someone? Or think I like staring at your picture on my phone and instantly getting hard?”
Wait, what?Picture? “What picture?”
“The one you sent me a while back. You know, shirtless, gray sweats hung dangerously low on your hips, your cock rock-hard, straining against them.”
Holy shit, he fucking kept that. He saved it. Why?
“What are you wearing?” I have to know.
“Nothing.” Fuck. That one word obliterates any and all semblance of self-control I thought I possessed.
“Are you hard?”
“You fucking know I am.” His voice is thick with sex.
“Are you… touching yourself?” Based on his breathing, I already know the answer, but I want to hear him admit it.
Groaning deeply, he replies, “I am... Are you?”
“Fuck, Knox. You’re killing me. I am, but over my briefs.”
“Take ’em off.”
Mindlessly, I shove them off and toss them onto the floor. With me normally being the dominant one when it comes to anything sex-related, his bossiness right now has my blood on fire. “Okay, they’re gone.”
“Wrap your fist around your cock for me,” he demands, voice dripping with lust.
Hissing when my hand meets my throbbing, hot length, I do as I’m told and wrap my hand tight around myself. Stroking myself reverently from root to swollen tip, I swipe my thumb over the bead of pre-cum before my descent back down. Shamelessly, I allow myself to groan and grunt throughout these strokes, earning me a deep, guttural groan from Knox.
“Fuck, Aston. The noises you make drive me fucking wild. I’m so fucking hard for you.”
“Let me see.”
“Hang on.”
The phone vibrates against my ear as he’s switching the call to FaceTime. Accepting it, I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp so there’s enough light for him to see me.
“Hey,” he purrs. He looks sexy as hell. I can only see him from the chest up right now, but it’s naked, his tattoos on full display. His eyes are dark and hooded, his hair is messy and hanging in his face, and his lips are glistening as if he just licked them. What I would give to feel that tongue on my body right now.
“Hi.”
“Prop your phone up on your nightstand so I can see all of you.”
Moving to do that, I also adjust my pillows so I can sit against the wall, facing the phone. “You do the same, Knox.”
Knowing he doesn’t have anything to prop his phone on by his bed, I watch him get up and cross the room. Sitting in his chair, he props the phone on his desk, putting his entire, glorious naked body on display for me.
Wrapping my fist around my cock, I stroke myself and groan at the sight of him.
******
Knox
I’m still shocked he even answered my call in the first place. Granted, I had to call twice in a row, but he still answered nonetheless. Seeing him at the frat party and being unable to talk to him fucked with my head.
I didn’t expect to miss his presence in my life as much as I do. After he ended things, I was pissed. Furious, actually. I had finally accepted my feelings for him, and he ended things without even hearing me out. I was put on the spot at that event and wasn’t able to tell him the whole truth. If he would’ve just gone somewhere with me or given me time to process everything, I would’ve told him, but he couldn’t even give me that. He tossed me aside like I was trash and it infuriated me to no end. I know I fucked up—he deserves the truth—but I wish he would’ve been a little more understanding. Immediately after, I told myself I was better off without him and all the confusing feelings that came with our arrangement.
And then reality set in.
I found myself thinking about him constantly. During the day, lying in bed at night, when I was sleeping. Shit, I couldn’t even jack off without his face appearing behind my eyelids and fucking with my feelings. My every thought was consumed by Aston fucking Walker, and that pissed me off more than him leaving me.
I shouldn’t miss him. I shouldn’t long for him, want to feel his touch on my body, his stubble rub against my face, his lips graze mine. I shouldn’t want any of that, yet I do.
Seeing him tonight was like a punch in the gut. But seeing him see me and pretend I don’t even exist? That shit was like a knife to the heart. I drank way more than I should’ve, walked home alone, with plans to wallow in self-pity and sleep away the pain. Instead, I pull up his picture—that damn picture—and lose all chill, calling him without a second thought.
And here we are… on FaceTime, naked and turned on. I regret nothing.
“Fuck, Aston, you stroking your cock is the sexiest sight,” I moan, gripping my own aching cock, stroking diligently from base to tip. I’m so fucking hard I could hammer through a two by four and my slit is dripping at the sight of him touching himself.
“Tell me what you’d do to me if you were here,” he says, in his hot as hell voice that’s oozing sex appeal. His strokes are long and slow, driving me fucking wild.
Relaxing into the chair, legs kicked wide, I stroke my cock in firm, languid strokes. “First, I would drape my body over yours and nip at that spot behind your ear that makes you purr like a cat.”
As I’m saying this, his head drops back against the wall and he lets out a heavy sigh, so I keep going.
“I would wrap my fist around your thick shaft, flick my tongue over your slit and relish in the flavor of you entering my mouth.” I slide my left hand down to cup my balls. “Fuck, the thought of that makes my mouth water,” I admit on a groan.
Matching my moves, he slips his hand past his cock, grabbing his sac in a firm hold. “Goddamn, Knox. Keep going.” His strokes are becoming faster; he’s losing control, and it’s fucking tantalizing.
“I’d run the flat of my tongue along that fat vein you have on the underside of your cock, paying extra attention to the spot where your length meets the head.”
We’re both thrusting feverishly into our fists now, grunting and panting heavily. His eye contact is doing nothing to calm the fire raging inside of me. His bright green eyes are practically black, his jaw is slack, and I can see beads of sweat on his forehead. He’s absolutely breathtaking when he’s falling apart like this.
“Knox, holy shit,” he moans. “Want your body… on me, fucking in me. I fucking need you.” His admission is like a kick in the gut, but I ignore it and keep going. I refuse to lose this moment with him; I need it.
We both lose ourselves to the pleasure, neither of us talking anymore. The only sounds are the moans and grunts, our eyes never leaving one another’s. For being apart, this moment feels intense as hell, like he’s right here with me. His gaze, attention, desire, turns me on more than anyone ever has. He flips a switch in me that I can’t ignore. He’s everything.
“Knox, fuck, I’m going to come!”
“Come for me, Aston. Come all over your cock, let me see it. Don’t hold back.”
My words and his wicked pace set off his release, hot streams of cum spraying all over his hand, cock, and abs. My name falls from his lips like a chant as he comes, which sets my own release off.
“Fuck, Aston… shit… unghhh.” Cum jets out of my cock, the force behind it so strong, some of it hits my neck. The orgasm is stronger than any I’ve had in the past month since he’s been gone.
After we both come, Aston looks calm and sated for all of thirty-seconds before I watch the reality of what just happened set in. His once soft, lust-filled gaze turns hard and cold. He’s immediately regretting this; I see it clear in his eyes.
“Aston, I—”
Before I can say anything to try and calm him down, he reaches out and ends the call. I’m left staring at the blank screen, cum all over me, and a lump in my throat making it hard for me to breathe.
Fuck.