Page 105 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

I couldn't even remember what we had been talking about.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I can get behind that."

He gazed at me for a moment, then gently shook his head.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he told me.

The fact that he was being so kind, that he would pillow talk so sweetly when I didn’t think I’d ever said a single nice word to him, made my heart clench.

“I know,” I returned, trying to joke, to make light of a moment that felt far too real.

"Good," he returned and kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth and massaging mine until my exhausted cock twitched with interest.

"You like kissing?" he whispered against my mouth, and I nodded breathlessly, biting his bottom lip and rolling my tongue against it.

The worst part of masturbating was that there was no one to kiss me through it. And now that I was being teased with such a good mouth and cock, my dildos seemed so sad and lonely by comparison.

How was I ever going to go back to making videos solo? Peter was ruining me…

I pushed him, trying to stop my cock from getting too hard. I was too wrung dry to start again, but he just felt too damn good to resist like this.

“Are you kicking me out again?” he mumbled.

I hadn’t been, but I nodded anyway, because that seemed like the safest idea.

“Yeah. Go.”

He chuckled and pulled away, taking all that glorious warmth and comfort away from me as he rolled out of bed.

He grabbed his clothes off the floor on his way, pausing at the door to turn back and look at me. I could see the appreciation in his eyes.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“You too…”

I laid there for ages, too tired to move, while my mind raced too fast for me to sleep. Finally, I remembered the camera was still running and stood, sighing as I shut everything down.

The darkness helped me to relax, but Peter’s warm, comfortable body had been better.

In the morning, I woke to the sound of him leaving the apartment and felt as though I hadn’t slept at all. My thoughts just carried on from exactly where they had been, as though there hadn’t been an hours-long gap.

I groaned, pulled on a robe, and went to the washroom.

Sitting on the toilet, I realized my ass felt sore and when I looked in the mirror, there were handprints on my hips just like I’d guessed there would be.

I swallowed and dropped my robe back down to cover them because the proof of what we had done, the marks he’d left on my body, made my insides squirm with unexpected nerves or—God help me, butterflies.

Fuck.

I physically shook myself.

Peter was good in bed—okay, amazing in bed—and a fantastic kisser and surprisingly sweet when he chose to be, but that didn’t change… what was it again?

I blinked, trying to remember why I was supposed to hate him.

Truthfully, when I’d heard him saying all those homophobic things to my own brother back then, it had hurt.

It was at a family barbeque, and Charles had invited his best friend. I hadn’t met him yet, but had wanted to. Anyone Charles liked had to be great, right?

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