Page 31 of Tinsel & Tools
“You too,” I replied.
Once the door clicked shut, I sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled slowly. My pulse was still racing. Giving Cole a blow job had done a number on me, and watching him lose control because of what I was doing to him had left me hard and needy.
Laying back, I dragged a hand over my chest, willing my erection to go away on its own, but that just made things worse. My body was keyed up from the sound of his voice praising how good I was with my mouth. Closing my eyes, I could almost feel his hand at the back of my head or how his body shuddered when he finally let go.
“God,” I muttered into the silence.
My hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my boxers and pushed them down so I could wrap my fingers around my shaft. I began stroking, causing my hips to lift off the mattress.
My breath caught as I thought about the kiss we’d shared. It had been tentative before it’d turned messy and frenzied. I could have kissed him all night and still wanted more.
The images playing in my head shifted to every detail of me on my knees, and I began a punishing rhythm that felt like both too much and not enough at the same time. A quiet groan passed my lips as my balls tightened.
With a few more strokes, my hot release spilled over my hand and stomach. I needed to clean up, but I allowed myself to lay there for a few moments, my chest rising and falling, eyes still closed as the aftershocks rippled through me.
13
Cole
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, the sheets twisted around my legs, and the glow from my clock the only light in the room. All I could think about was Gavin sleeping down the hall in my spare bedroom. Just knowing he was a few feet away had my pulse running faster than it should have after what had happened in my kitchen.
I’d never kissed a man before and had never thought about it. Then I’d let him kiss me, and instead of pulling back, I had kissed him in return. Before I knew it, he had dropped to his knees and I hadn’t stopped what came next. Instead, I had loved every second of it.
I dragged a hand over my face. What the hell is wrong with me?
This wasn’t me. I’d been with women my whole life. I had married one. Being with a man never crossed my mind. So why hadn’t I shoved him away? Why did I want what Gavin offered? And why did I enjoy it?
I flipped the pillow to the cool side and rolled onto my side. Maybe what I’d tried to justify in the moment was true. Maybe it was because almost two years had passed without anyone touching me, which was sure to mess with any man’s head. That was all it was. It had to be. But that excuse didn’t hold up against the way it felt. How my body responded.
What did that mean? Was I gay? Bi? Just curious? Hell if I knew. I didn’t know what box I fit into, and I wasn’t sure I wanted one. What I did know was that what I had felt in the kitchen hadn’t been confusion. My legs had nearly given out, I’d groaned so loud the neighbors could’ve heard, and I came harder than I had in a long time.
I pulled the blanket higher, but it didn’t calm my thoughts. My head kept going back to the guy down the hall, to his mouth on me, to the way I’d lost it. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shut it off.
The Keurig gurgled, filling the kitchen with the smell of fresh coffee while I leaned back against the counter, waiting for it to finish. I hadn’t slept much, and the few hours I managed to get had done nothing.
Just as the machine was done, footsteps came down the hall. Gavin walked in, dressed for the day with a wide smile on his face. My mind went straight to the wet grip of his mouth around me, the drag of his tongue, the way he swallowed when I finished. My dick jumped at the memory, and I cleared my throat.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” He set his bag down.
I pulled another mug from the cabinet and slid it under the machine. “Creamer, milk, sugar?”
“Vanilla creamer?”
“Yep.” I held up the bottle.
“That works. And some sugar.”
I handed him the already made coffee, creamer, and a small container of sugar with a spoon.
He fixed his coffee then cupped his mug with both hands and stared at the steam. I prepared mine and then took a sip, keeping my eyes on my coffee instead of him. The silence dragged out longer than it should have because I should have said something—anything—but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound either stupid or too much.
“Thanks again for last night.”
I glanced at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
His gaze shifted to the floor. “About what happened?—”
