Page 20 of Cocky Bastard

I laughed but I couldn’t disagree with him. Even when Austin pissed me off, he’d never broken my trust and after ten years, that meant something. “No, I do. But—”

“Then trust me when I say you fucking smashed it and they’re gonna call you back. They’ll probably want you to come in for a chemistry read with the other lead and, depending on who they’ve got, it’s probably turned into a bloody nightmare trying to organise dates and shit.”

He nudged me gently with his elbow and smiled warmly, his expression radiating confidence and belief. It stunned me and made my stomach twist itself into knots as I tried, and failed, to process all the emotions I was feeling. “You’ve got this, Pendleberry. And if you don’t then… I’ll let you choose my next tattoo. And it can be whatever the fuck you want, as cringe as you like.”

My eyes dropped to the skulls and roses tattooed on his forearm, which were part of a three-part set that also included his shoulder and ribs. They looked gorgeous on him and something about the idea of permanently marking him, reminding him of me every day for the rest of his life, sent a possessive rumble rolling through my chest. “Fine,” I said, sipping my drink again. “But it’s gonna be a tramp stamp.”

Austin laughed and pumped his fist ridiculously. “Fuck yeah, baby. Tramp stamp for the win!”

I snorted, nearly spraying the bar with whisky and spit as I tried not to choke. Austin swore and thumped me on the back, which only made me start laughing.

“Jesus, kitten, swallow first next time,” Austin said, rubbing his hand in circles over my spine. It didn’t help.

“This is your fault,” I said as I coughed, my throat suddenly raw from the choking. God, this man was so fucking ridiculous. But it was charming rather than annoying as hell.

“Oh dear.” He didn’t sound sorry as he leant closer. “Would you like a kiss better?”

My front door clanged shut behind us, shaking the doorframe and wobbling the vase of flowers on the small windowsill next to it as I dragged Austin into the tiled hallway of my townhouse in Chelsea. His hands were inside my shirt, already trying to rip the buttons open, and my skin burned whenever his fingers brushed against me.

“Fuck.” Austin groaned as I pushed him against the nearest wall and began trailing kisses down his neck, sucking a mark just above the collar of his T-shirt.

I hadn’t been sure about bringing him back to my house because in all our years of fucking around he’d never come back with me to anywhere that wasn’t a secluded corner, a toilet, or a hotel room. Bringing him here felt like a new level of intimacy, but the idea of him on my sofa… in my bed… naked and fucking me breathless, was the most powerful aphrodisiac I’d ever encountered.

It was like a shot of pure desire straight to my veins.

“Where’s your room?” Austin asked, the question trailing off into a low moan.

“Top floor.” I stepped back, admiring my handiwork on his neck and casually wondering if it would show up in any of hisupcoming videos. Then I grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the stairs. “This way.”

“Nice place. Do I get a tour?”

“Tomorrow,” I said as I pulled him up the polished wooden stairs. I was too fucking horny to consider anything but getting his dick inside me.

“Tomorrow?” Austin sounded amused as we reached the middle floor, pulling me in for a deep, heavy kiss that made my head spin. “Am I staying then?”

“Yes. O-Only if you want to, though.”

“Good,” he said, kissing me again. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning before I go.”

“You cook?”

He grinned as he released me and slid his fingers into mine to pull me towards the second flight of stairs. “On occasion. When the mood calls for it.”

I was too stunned to reply. How had I never known this about him? Then again, it wasn’t until recently that Austin and I had started swapping details of our personal lives beyond our STI status. He could have a whole host of non-sexual talents I wasn’t aware of.

And if one of them was making fluffy scrambled eggs, I’d be a very happy man.

Austin whistled as he stepped into my room and flicked on the lights, which consisted of several lamps dotted around the room with soft, warm bulbs rather than a single bright overhead light. The room was a converted loft space with high slanted ceilings and large windows that looked up into the cloudy night sky, letting me forget I was in the middle of the city. The room’s décor and furnishings had a soft blue-grey, lavender, and blush palette, which I’d always found cosy and soothing, and hanging above the bed was a series of watercolour nudes of some extremely gorgeous men. “Very nice. You have good taste.”

“Thanks,” I said as I pushed the door shut behind us, more gently this time. “I didn’t do any of it.”

“None at all?”

“Not really. I gave the designer some pointers and let him run wild.” I chuckled as I led Austin over to the large bed at one end of the room. “I did buy the nudes, though.”

“That fits.” Austin grinned as he began popping open the buttons on my shirt, sliding his fingers across my chest and teasing one of my nipples with his thumb. “You’ve always been a horny, needy boy.”

I wanted to argue that I’d picked the pictures for their artistic qualities as well as the aesthetics of the models, but Austin’s fingers were pinching and rolling my nipple while he trailed his lips down my neck, and any hope I had of forming sensible words failed. I groaned, tilting my head back to give him more room to play as I pushed my chest greedily into his touch.

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