Page 19 of Fe
Ripley didn’t want him, let alone like him. It wasn’t the end of the world. He hung up his coat and slumped on his bed to take off his boots. The kiss had been… Tears fell.Oh fuck it!Was this all it took to drag him back down? A selfish arsehole thinking he was too damaged even for a one-night stand?Well, fuck him!The kiss meant nothing. It wasn’t a gateway to a happy ever after no matter how it had made Fen feel at that moment. There was no point in wanting more. Not from a guy like Ripley. Fen would get used and thrown away.
But it didn’t stop him going through the photos he’d taken. He wasn’t going to delete them. Especially not one from the restaurant when Ripley was looking at him as if he wanted to eat him.
Once he was inside his house, Ripley locked the door and leaned back against it. He wriggled out of his coat and fumbled with the fastening on his trousers. His dick was so hard. He shoved down his shorts and trousers, spat on his hand and drew it up and down his cock. A tremor ran the length of his spine, fizzling from his neck to his balls. If there had been competitions for wanking, Ripley would no doubt have won plenty of medals.
I’m an idiot. I could have had him right here with me now.
His fingers tightened at the base of his shaft.
Oh fuck.
He used one hand to stroke the root of his cock with his thumb and two fingers, and the other to massage his balls.
As slow as I can.He wanted the sensation of needing to come to last as long as he could make it. He worked his way from the base of his cock using two fingers to rub and tease until he reached the swollen head. Precome oozed from the slit and a sigh escaped from his mouth. His cock slipped in his fingers, precome coating his hand. At the apex of each dragging pull along his cock, Ripley made an infinitesimal pause to wrap his fingers and thumb around the head before he swept his hand down to meet the one holding his balls. Harder, tighter, faster. Muscles contracted. His stomach clenched and he felt the burn in his balls.Fuck slow!He shuddered as his hips jerked, and then he was coming, long ropy threads spurting over his shirt and his hand.
Mouth slack, limbs trembling, Ripley banged his head back hard against the door and gave a quiet groan.Not enough.
After a shower, he climbed into bed with his laptop and looked up Becker muscular dystrophy. Once he’d found out what it was, he should have closed his laptop. Instead, he kept reading. And reading.
When he finally stopped, he felt chastened. What right did he have to complain about anything? It was a reminder of how unfair life could be.
6
Much to his annoyance, Fen was still feeling hurt by Ripley’s rejection a couple of days later. If there hadn’t been a kiss… He’d hoped Ripley might call him… But he didn’t and there was no way Fen would contact him. He was currently taking out his irritation on one of the Lutyens garden seats, vigorously rubbing down the wood with fine sandpaper.
If Alistair had been around, he’d be telling Fen there’d be nothing left if he carried on like that, and Fen sighed and eased up. He didn’t like working on a Saturday but he had to take his turn on the rota. Today it was him and Scott. At least Scott mostly stayed in the shop, glued to his phone, and left Fen alone.
Just as Fen had thought Scott’s name, the door opened and Scott walked in brandishing an envelope.
“This is for you. Hand delivered by a courier.”
As Fen reached out to take it, Scott snatched it back. Fen bit into his cheeks and tried again, only for Scott to hoot and jerk it out of reach.Dickhead!Fen stopped trying to get it and carried on dragging the fine sandpaper down one of the staves.
“The shop isn’t your personal mailbox,” Scott said.
“And you shouldn’t be gambling when you’re at work.”
“Mind your own fucking business.”
“A fool and his money,” Fen muttered.
“What did you say?” Scott snapped.
“Gambling games are set up on the basis of punters losing eventually. Most people lose money. Even those who win, don’t win much.”
“How would you know?”
“It’s obvious. Why run a business where you don’t make money? They give enough back to get people hooked. People don’t like randomness. We look for patterns so we convince ourselves those right numbers will come up in time. Doesn’t mean they will. Like choosing the same National Lottery numbers time after time.”
“There’s skill involved in card games.”
“Like blackjack and poker? Some, but because there is still an element of luck, no matter how expert you think you are, you can lose against a novice.”
“I’d beat you.”
Fen shrugged. “But I won’t play.”
“Then stay the fuck out of my business. You know nothing about it.” Scott threw the envelope down next to him.
