Page 89 of The Bro Pact
“Can I try some?” Kyle asks, licking his boring-ass double scoop of vanilla.
I couldn’t decide so I got a triple scoop waffle cone filled with pistachio almond, birthday cake, and cookies n’ cream.
“Not my fault you like vanilla,” I retort with a little smirk before I cover it with a mouthful of creamy, bright green ice cream.
“Hey!You’re seriously still gonna call me vanilla after everything we’ve done?” Kyle asks, pursing his lips and making me want to kiss the frown away. He looks offended, and I feel a little bad.
“Touché,” I admit, glancing down at his cone and seeing nothing but a polar bear in a blizzard. “You do like plain shit though.”
“Except when it comes to you.” His reply is smooth and swift.
I’m speechless for a moment, letting his words sink in.
My heart skips a beat as he leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine without even glancing around to check if anyone’s looking first.
But I soon realize it was a diversion tactic when the sneaky bastard steals a lick of my ice cream, swiping his tongue from bottom to top and making my dick chub up in the process.
Shit.
There are families here for fuck’s sake.
“Not a combination I’d personally choose, but to each their own,” Kyles declares, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth while his taste buds register the assault of flavors.
He licks his plush lips then takes a big, slurping bite of his own vanilla ice cream, and all my dirty mind can think about is him doing the same thing to my cock, slipping into a mini daydream.
His hot, wet mouth slobbering all over me, making out with my dick and sucking on my balls.
I shrug nonchalantly, tearing my gaze away from Kyle’s mouth, peering out at the ocean, and praying I don’t trip on an uneven wooden slat and fall face-first on my boner. I take a purposefully large bite of ice cream, and sure enough, the epic brain freeze wilts my inappropriate hardness.
We stroll down the oceanfront boardwalk, enjoying the salty sea breeze, white-capped waves, and all the quaint little shops along the way. It’s beautiful here.Peaceful.Everything and everyone is relaxed and unrushed, as if they’re living in a permanent state ofvacation.
Seagulls continue their low, piercing calls, occasionally landing nearby to grab a lone french fry or scrap of food. The quiet camaraderie is nice, and I appreciate how comfortable we both feel around each other. This trip has brought us so much closer, not that I’d point that out to Kyle. I don’t think he’s ready to open his eyes to the truth of what this thing between us could become.
A few more minutes of walking, and I’m finally ready to take a bite of the best part—the homemade waffle cone. Trailing mytongue along the perimeter, I catch the drips before they can land on my hand and make an annoying, sticky mess.
The loud crunch after all that soft ice cream is so satisfying, I immediately take another bite before swallowing the first.
Kyle chuckles, nibbling politely on his own cone. “Good?”
“Mhm,” I moan, and soon enough we’re both done, tossing our napkins into the trashcan before we’re off to explore the rest of the boardwalk.
We pass a funky, handmade jewelry store, and Kyle suddenly veers in that direction.
“I gotta go pee. I’m gonna duck in here real quick.”
“’Kay.” I plop down on the bench outside, leaning my head against the brick exterior and resting my hands on my full belly. I could use a little break anyway.
“Be right back,” Kyle says, disappearing into the shop, and I give him a lazy wave in return.
I rest my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sunshine on my face while I wait for Kyle to take a piss.
A gentle hand shakes my shoulder, softly rousing me.
“Sorry. I must have dozed off,” I murmur.
“Wanna sit under the gazebos over there and get out of the sun for a minute? You look tired,” he says thoughtfully, running long fingers through my hair and scratching at my scalp.
“Mmm.Let’s go, then,” I mutter, ready to lay my head in his lap and take a nap.
