Page 6 of A Really Gay Book
ChapterThree
APPLE
There was something pointy inside the couch poking me in my left ass cheek. Wouldn’t it be amazing if I got a bruise? It would be my first. Maybe I’d take a picture and post it on Instagram.
Adam poured a liberal amount of a horrible-smelling liquid on my hand, and it stung a little as it invaded the wound. It didn’t feel great, but it was ignorable. The hand holding mine was a far bigger attention grabber.
It was rough and calloused and big. Big in a yummy way. Big in anoh myway. Big in a,hello, dick fingerskind of way…
Where was I?
Ah yes, my master plan.
I’d wormed my way into Adam’s house, and I was planning to set up camp. Why wouldn’t I? You did just read the part about the dick fingers, right?
Adam didn’t give off an ounce ofI’m not good enough for youenergy. The chances he’d run out of the house three seconds after a peck on the cheek, crying out, “I’ll never be good enough for you!” were laughable.
In fact, I had a far better chance of sending him running for an alibi after he’d finished stashing my body somewhere.
Well. That certainly gave me a tingle. It was beginning to look like too much good luck had installed a rather unconventional kink in me.
Not that I wanted to be murdered. But roughed up a bit? Left a touch uncertain about my health and safety? Hmmm… yes, please. I’ll have one of those, thanks.
I took a peek at Mister Dick Finger’s hands again and imagined the dinner-plate-sized bruise they would leave on my currently unbesmirched posterior and gave a little shiver of anticipation.
“There. I’m done. Go away now, please.” Adam had wrapped my palm in soft white gauze.
I’d barely noticed. He was still holding my hand in his.
“What if I pass out from blood loss?” I asked, beginning the opening salvo in my plan of staying with Adam forever.
Yes, forever. Why? No clue. But letting him ditch me wasn’t an option. I just couldn’t.
And it wasn’t just the dick fingers.
There was something there. Some tiny, ineffable thing between us I couldn’t pull away from. Maybe I hadn’t realized it at the time, but I was pretty sure I’d been hooked the moment I’d gotten ass-rammed.
“As long as you don’t do it here, I’m willing to risk it.” Adam began to put his medical supplies back on their little tray, but he was doing it one-handed because my hand was still lying in his.
His hold was in direct opposition to his pissed-off expression. It was like he was holding a little bird, and he was afraid of crushing it.
There was that tingle again. Yep. I was well on my way to popping a tent. Which, ironically, wasn’t going to help me in my desire to set up camp in Adam’s life.
I mentally updated my newly discovered kink tobarely leashed violence tempered with unparalleled gentleness. There should be bruisesandcuddles involved. And perhaps hot cocoa afterward.
I was about to press my luck when a short, hyper tornado blew into the room. Not a real tornado. A human one. He was as cute as a button too. Not—and I need to stress this for reasons—as cute as me.
“I did it again!” The tornado cried out as he fell to his knees.
“Whichit, Vix? At my last count, you were up to five its.” An equally short man came down the stairs. Both had identical mops of curly red hair. Were they twins?
Was the entire house full of shorties? Or maybe we all just seemed small compared to Adam.
Yes, I included myself as a member of the house. It was inevitable. Maybe if Adam had dropped my hand like a hot potato the second he’d had a chance, there was a possibility I could have slowed my roll and courted him properly.
But no. He wasstillholding it in a gentle prison even after the tornado had arrived.
And because I wasn’t an idiot, I wasn’t about to point it out. We were holding hands. I’m pretty sure it can officially be considered handholding after three seconds of contact, and we’d broken that threshold at least ten minutes ago.
