And even if he did mean for that to be an invitation, am I ready for that?
Do I want it to be an invitation? Yes.
Do I want to take it? Yes.
But what if I go in there and it’s all too much, too soon, and I freak out? What will that do to him?
Then again, it won’t be too much. That’s just my ingrained fear talking. And the longer I sit here and play this decision over and over in my head, the lower my chances of finding out are.
If I’m wrong and it wasn’t his way of asking me to come and get naked with him, then I can play it off without anything awkward happening. But there’s only one way to know for sure.
In a rush, I hop off the floor and practically run to the men’s locker room. To my relief, the water is still running when my shoes click against the tile floor. It’s steamy as hell in here, and I shed my pants, shoes, and socks in a rush.
As I peel my boxers off, I feel a nervous shake in my hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe this is happening. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m not ready?
This is my best friend—which means it’s safe. There’s no one I’d be more comfortable finding out with.
With a deep breath, I shut my brain off and step into the large shower area. He’s facing the wall as the water streams over his back, and I stare for a moment at his perfect, long body, sculpted over time by muscle and manual labor. I wait for one second to see if he’s going to speak, but something tells me he’s holding out for me.
So…here goes nothing.
My cock is jutting straight out, hard and excited, and just as nervous as I am. Holding it in my hand, I stalk closer to him, waiting for the moment he asks what I’m doing or tells me he doesn’t want me to touch him.
But that doesn’t come. I reach his tall frame, extending out my hand to slide it against his wet skin. He hisses as I glide my fingers over his shoulder and around his neck. When I ease my grasp around his throat and pull his hard body against mine, wedging my hard cock between us, he smiles.
“What took you so long?”
And I distantly realize that he could mean tonight, just now in the shower, or he could mean our entire friendship.
The moment I have Drake in my grasp, my brain silences, and my body takes over. Rutting my cock against his back, I hold one of my hands around his throat as the other travels to the front to wrap around his impressive length.
We groan in unison as our cocks receive the mutual attention they crave. Drake’s hands are planted against the wall as I grind myself against him. I wish I knew what it was about his body that feels so fucking good. And I’ve only experienced the tip of the iceberg, but with every touch, the craving for more gets even more unbearable.
“What are you doing to me?” I ask, my lips exploring the back of his neck and shoulder.
Suddenly, he spins and drags me against him, so our chests are touching as he crashes his mouth on mine. His kiss is warm and brutal as we stumble against the wall. I shove myself hard against him. It feels impossible to satisfy this need, as if I can’t get enough of his skin against mine. I desperately need more.
Our kisses don’t stop as we grind against each other, and it’s all happening so fast. His taste, his smell, his touch, it’s a kaleidoscope of bliss—him and me together—and it’s making me crazy.
Grabbing the back of his neck, I growl into the space between us. “You make me fucking crazy.”
“Then go fucking crazy,” he replies in a low, breathless whisper, his voice like a dare.
I hook an arm under his leg, lifting it up so I can grind even closer, our cocks rubbing together in an exquisite sensation of scorching heat and delicate friction.
This is my best friend—my best fucking friend—and I want to fuck his brains out right now.
“I’m gonna come,” I grunt before looking at him. “Then I’m going to take you home and fuck you while my wife watches.”
He lets out a shaky breath, a long groan following as he fills the crevices between our bodies with his cum. I take his lips between mine as I unload too.
We are falling down the hill on a train with no brakes. There is nothing we can do to stop this, except for crash at the bottom. And I know, eventually, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Rule #31: Just because you’re letting them have their moment, doesn’t mean you should have to miss out.
Isabel
The soundof the front door closing downstairs jerks me out of my sleep as the romance novel I was reading hits the floor. My eyes pop open and I reach for my phone to check the time. It’s late, so it must be Hunter or Drake…or both. The distant sound of muffled voices and grunts carries up the stairs. At first, I panic, thinking it’s a scuffle. Especially when I hear a body slam into the wall.