Page 98 of Playing for Keeps
Luke eyed it skeptically. “Is it a sandwich or a brick?”
“Oh, very funny. You’re such a comedian.”
Luke smirked at me and took a bite of the sandwich.
“Yum. Melted cheese.”
“It turns out my sandwich making skills haven’t progressed much in the last decade,” I said.
“It’s great.”
Luke finished his sandwich and went to put his plate in the dishwasher, picking up mine on the way. Alison had trained him well. It was one of the reasons I’d loved visiting their house when I was a kid. Everything was so ordered and neat. The opposite of my house.
Luke had seemed to understand that, because he invited me over all the time. I’d spent almost as much time at his house as my own.
I watched him load the dishwasher and was flooded with warmth for my best friend. Who would soon represent New Zealand for rugby. He’d worked so hard. He deserved all the good things that came his way.
Suddenly, being near him without touching him seemed like the biggest waste of potential in the universe. And it occurred to me the kitchen was the one room we hadn’t christened yet. It was definitely time to change that.
I came up from behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“So, I’m trying to think of some fun ways to congratulate you.” I kissed the side of his neck.
“I’m always interested to hear your ideas,” he rasped.
He turned around, his mouth finding mine, kissing me eagerly.
I kissed down his neck as we ground against each other. I tugged off his T-shirt at the same time he was removing mine, urgently yanking at the fabric, then we made quick work of stripping off our pants, leaving only our boxers.
Our naked chests collided, Luke’s hard cock rubbing up against mine in an exquisite friction that sent shivers of anticipation down my spine.
His hands grabbed my ass, hauling me closer as he tilted his hips, the delicious slow grind of our cocks at complete odds with how his tongue ruthlessly fucked my mouth.
God, I loved having sex with Luke.
A smashing sound broke through my haze of horniness.
Luke and I sprang apart.
Luke’s dad stood in the doorway of the kitchen gaping at us, a puddle of liquid and broken glass at his feet.
Oh holy shit.
Luke moved in front of me, shielding me from Anthony’s gaze. Given my cock was trying to set some world tenting record in my boxers, I was grateful for that small act of chivalry.
Although it appeared we were both about to test the land speed record for how fast cocks could deflate.
“What the fuck, Dad?” Luke said.
“I brought whisky…” Anthony’s voice was choked. “To celebrate…”
“Right,” Luke said.
“We were just practicing another form of celebration,” I said, because hey, my life lacked the thrill of being scowled at by two Hunter men at the same time.
My attempt to move past the awkward moment died a dismal death.
No one said anything and the silence stretched on.
