Page 15 of Bad Boy
I grin against his lips. He likes it.Fuck.I’m so turned on.
I use my grip on his hair to tilt his head just how I want it and cradle his face with my other palm, ensuring the camera can still capture every hot-as-fuck moment unfolding between us.
I can’t stop.Fuck, I can’t stop.I have to fight against the urge to pull him onto my lap and grind my dick against him.
I lean back instead, and he doesn’t disappoint, once again chasing after me with an open mouth and swollen lips. I stick my tongue out, and he follows suit. We tangle them together in front of the camera for a filthy, messy kiss. I don’t give a shit if I’m sitting in a photo booth in the middle of an old-ass arcade making out with my student advisor. This is the hottest kiss of my life. And my dick sure as fuck agrees.
I grab Lincoln’s face with both hands, well aware this is turning into something more than just a friendly, explorative kiss. I don’t give a single fuck about it and seal our lips together once again.
I’m so hard. So horny. My dick is fucking throbbing.
A throat clears from the other side of the dark curtain, and we abruptly pull apart. “Knock knock, boys. I know there’s no one else here except this little old lady, but let's keep it PG, please,” she chuckles, her footsteps telling me she’s not waiting for a response.
I stick my head out of the curtain anyway. “Sorry, Barb!” I shout after her and then pop my head back in. I glance at Lincoln and burst out laughing. I haven’t had this much fun in. . . I don’t even know how long.
Lincoln is laughing, too, a blush gracing his cheeks, and I reach for our new, more R-rated photos.
Fuck me. NowI’mblushing.
“Whoa, Preppy. These are. . .” I clear my throat and shift in my seat, hoping my black jeans hide the raging boner in my pants. Wishful thinking maybe, but I’m going with it.
“Let me see.” He holds his hand out expectantly, and I place the photo strip in it, watching his face for every micro-reaction. I eat that shit up, and I’m not disappointed. His blush deepens, and his mismatched eyes dart up to mine, freezing me in place and searing me with intensity—heat. The fucking desire swirling inside them has my baser instincts wanting to take over. My amygdala or some shit.
He wants me.
He may be shy and reserved, but he likes guys, and I know he likes me.
I just don’t want to scare him away. I recognize skittishness when I see it. And every bone in my body screams at me to figure out why.
What’s going on with him?
I don’t ask, of course. Instead, I tease him with a different question. One I damn well know the answer to.
“So, did you like it? Kissing a boy? You gay, for sure then?” I can’t help it when my lip quirks, and his eyes zero in on the movement before they flick back to meet mine. I see a moment of panic flash across them.
Please don’t run away, little mouse.
“Lincoln. Chill, dude.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wonder if it will become a regular thing. Me reassuring him. And I think I’d be okay with that. “This is a safe space with me. We’re friends, and we’re just exploring things together, right?” I decide to open up to him and hopefully ease his nerves.
“That was my first time kissing a boy, too. And honestly, it blew my fucking mind. To the point where I’m questioning if I’m even still bi, or maybe I’m just gay now. Because damn, Linc.” I grab the photos from his hand and flutter them in the space between us. “Can I keep these?” I ramble, but it does its job, and his shoulders relax as he lets out a surprised giggle. It’s melodic and twangy, and the pleasant sound makes me wonder if maybe he sings.
He peers at me out of the corner of his eye and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip before whispering, “I did like it. A lot. I’m definitely gay, Remi.” And then he smiles, and it’s crooked and so fucking alluring—just like his eyes—that I have a hard time not staring. He seems self-conscious, and I have no idea why.
I bump my shoulder into his. “Nice, bro. Glad to be of service,” I say, just messing with him, knowing these photos will beof serviceto me later tonight. I stand and slip them into my back pocket, making sure they don’t get wrinkled. Definitely going to enjoy these later, in the privacy of my new bedroom suite. And maybe again in the shower, if I can find a plastic baggie to put them in.
Before my softie turns into a half-chub, I change the subject. “Let’s grab something to eat, then head out.” I pull the curtain back and blink rapidly as the bright lights of too many arcade games assault my darkened senses.
I hold my hand out, and a surge of pride rushes through me when Lincoln doesn’t hesitate to place his in mine and allows me to pull him to his feet and out of the booth. I sling my arm around his shoulder, as friends, of course, and steer us toward the food counter, where we order lunch and grab the same plastic seats from earlier. We dig into our food in silence, and it doesn’t take me more than five minutes to nearly finish mine.
“Every hot dog you eat could take thirty-six minutes off your life,” Linc morbidly informs me as I stuff the last bite of my second dog into my mouth. There goes an hour. He chose a grilled chicken sandwich. It’s their healthiest option, although it still looks a little greasy.
“I live recklessly, Preppy,” I mumble around a mouthful.
“Seems that way,” he replies under his breath. He really has no idea, but I’m hoping to show him. He needs to lighten up more. I liked seeing him like that in the photo booth when it was just the two of us. I need more alone time with him.
We’ve already been here a few hours, so it’s about time to leave. “Ready for me to drop you back at school?”
He delicately dabs the corners of his mouth with the paper napkin on his lap and stands. “Yes. Please.” So fucking proper and polite. And it does something for me.
