Page 149 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

Shuddered breaths leave his chest as I pick up the pace, as the feel of his smooth, slick skin makes my own erection throb with desire. I brace my weight on my knees as I pull on my briefs, but it’s Dash holding me steady with one hand and pulling with the other that finally gets them down far enough to free me.

I’m half his size and fully hard, but that doesn’t stop him from encasing my dick in his warm hand and pumping it like he’s a seasoned masturbator. In which I guess he is, but his grip makes my mind go blissfully blank.

It ends too abruptly, my hand knocked away as Dash leaves my mouth to spit in his palm. He tugs on my hip, then on my dick until we’re lined up and he can wrap his palm around our shafts.

“Oh,” we both say at the same time, Dash releasing a blissed out sigh and resting his cheek on my chest. “I’m definitely into this.”

I choke on a moan while fighting back a laugh. Dash’s hair is wet and coarse between my fingers, acting as something solid to keep me grounded with my hips developing a mind of their own.

“Same here. Oh my god.” The words feel ridiculous coming from my tongue, but I’m lucky I haven’t turned into a babbling mess. Especially when he traces the flared ridges around the head of my dick with the tip of his thumb.

A flutter of lips touches my collarbone—not quite a kiss, just presence and hot breath panted into my shoulder. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Dash for a mark, to settle in the crook of my neck and go to town, but the words are tied up by garbled grunts and moans taking up space in my throat.

I can’t even warn him that I’m on the verge, dying to hold it back. To make the experience last longer.

But it’s the soft, lust-filled way he breathes my name that does me in.

“Teddy.”

I press my face into his hair and rock my hips into his grip. His fist tightens around my cock—gone is the sensation rutting against his—and my warm cum trickles between us. Dash wrings me dry until I easily slide out of his grasp, followed by a slick sound and Dash’s knuckles brushing my stomach as he jerks himself in quick, erratic movements.

His orgasm coats my dick and stomach, some dripping down my balls and dampening my underwear, leaving featherlight kisses across my neck and collarbone as he shudders through the aftershocks.

It doesn’t take long for the reality of how exposed we are—how intimate and how anyone could walk in at any moment—to sink in. Before the worry can worm its way out of my brain through my mouth, Dash tips his head back, smiles all goofy and satisfied, and cups the back of my neck to bring my mouth down to his.

I can’t say no. I don’t want to.

So we stay there. Holding each other and kissing in a mess of our own cum. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Why haven’t we been getting off together from the start? Best sex ever.”

Dash finally dug out one of the spare tracksuits hidden in a cubby behind the bench and is stretching his legs after our prolonged make out session. I’m dressed but still can’t shake the unease settling in my stomach.

This is Dash. Fun-loving, annoyingly chipper, childish Dash who hasn’t shown a lick of interest in me before last week. We’ve showered next to each other, changed in front of each other, even shared a bed on a few exhausted occasions. But other than some misread glances on my part, there’s never been this urgent spark between us.

Maybe it’s because we’re about to graduate. The urge to push the bounds of our newfound adulthood before being ushered off to whatever colleges we scrape our ways into.

“TK?” I must not have answered his question because those big brown eyes are right in front of me, furrowed in worry with a bottom lip pout.

I smile because it’s impossible not to when I see him. It’s impossible not to want to be soft with him.

“I wouldn’t know. Considering the whole virgin thing and all.”

His frown deepens, but then he envelopes me in a tight grip with a couple good thwacks on the back that I think are supposed to be comforting but really only make me cough. He touches his forehead to mine in what must be the gentlest gesture the oaf has ever used on me.

“Don’t be so sour,” he says with a burgeoning grin. “These firsts are a heck of a lot of fun. I could totally take one for the team and do some extra playing downstairs if you’d like.” He wiggles his brows with the suggestion, so I know that he’s partly messing, but I can read the genuine intrigue beneath his playful exterior.

I don’t want to be a game or a notch on someone’s bedpost. Especially not Dash’s.

I shake my head, and before Dash can make light of it, I slip out of his loose hug and shove my hands in my hoodie pocket.

“I’m not a goal you’re trying to score, Dash.”

He tips his head to the side and runs his tongue across his lip. I wish I could say it didn’t make me want to chase his mouth for another kiss.

“No shit. Never said you were.” He stares off for a moment, and then his eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, as your friend who enjoys what we’ve been doing, you could use me to get some experience in.”

“You think we’ve just been having fun?”

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