Page 12 of Catching Kyle
“Ruckers,” he says. “I don’t work there. I just volunteered to bring it to you.”
“I asked them to just drop the book off,” I say, annoyed. And confused. Tigers management says I have to find a girl, and the universe brings the man who makes me question my sexuality right to my doorstep. This is some cosmic irony.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I just thought—you know what, I better go.” He steps off the porch into the rain, and then it starts hailing. He steps back onto the porch already drenched.
I rub my eyes. I don’t want to be an asshole to this guy, but I can’t let him into my house either. Not when I was just jerking off to him. I still don’t understand how or why he’s here.
“Look,” I say, putting my hands on the door, ready to close it. “Thanks, but—”
A strong gust of wind blows water onto my porch, knocking Peter backward. He trips on my welcome mat, then turns and falls face first into my hairy belly. My knees still wobbly, he knocks me back, and I land on my back with a thud.
And then his wet face is pressed into my hard dick.
Chapter 6
Michael Cunningham
IjumpupfromKyle as fast as I can.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, helping him up.
He grunts as he gets to his feet. “It’s fine.” The rain pouring outside, he grabs the paper bag with the book and ushers me inside. He slams the door behind me.
And then I’m standing in front of Kyle Weaver.
KylefuckingWeaver.
Am I hallucinating? Am I really standing in front of the Sexiest Man Alive? The man whose wink sends me to my knees? Whose body I’ve fantasized being wrapped around mine more than I can count?Whose hard penis may have just rubbed against my cheek?And the way his torso glistens—I know I got some of his sweat on my face when I fell on him. Hallelujah.
“I’ll get you a towel and some clothes,” he says. “Stay here.”
He barrels up the stairs with the bag I left at the door, and I’m too bewildered to speak.
‘Look around. Point out five things you can see’, my Al-Anon sponsor always says to do when I get anxious.
I take a deep breath and look around, trying to prevent my body from shivering. Unlucky for me to get poured on twice in the same week.
Marble floors. One.
Wooden staircase railings. Two.
I crane my neck to see into his large living room.
Leather couch. Three.
Large fireplace. Four.
And bookshelves. Five. So many bookshelves. They’re filled to the brim, but I’m too far away to see any titles.
Kyle comes back down the stairs—still shirtless, my god—and hands me some clothes and a towel. Sadly, his boner is gone. But I look away quickly, not wanting to creep him out.
“Bathroom’s around this corner,” he says. “If you want to shower.”
I nod and rigidly walk over to the bathroom, feeling like a freezing idiot. But inside the bathroom, he has one of those showers that’s big enough for a threesome. I clean myself off, welcoming the warm water, and try to process what the hell is happening.
I just met Kyle Weaver. And now I’m showering in his house.And I touched his dick.
I grab the towel and dry myself off in the shower. I then reach for my old clothes that I set up on the rack to try, but they’re still soaking.
