Page 33 of Golden

It’s a game of chicken, but it’s not going to go as far as I’ve suggested. I hope Sol knows that. There’s no way I’d take his virgin ass in the pool locker room, even if I had supplies with me, which I don’t. But there’s a universe of other things we can do—that I’m aching to do—if he’ll let me, and as Sol draws a shaky breath and begins to unfasten his jeans, my own breathing speeds to match his.

My fingers tense, longing to pull his sweatshirt off so I can get a better view of what he’s doing, but I’m reluctant to release the loose grip I have on his throat, as if it’s the only thing keeping him there in front of me.

Sol swallows hard, and I lean away from the warmth of his breath enough to glance down and see that he’s done exactly what I’ve told him. Fucking hell. It makes sense that one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen has a pretty cock. I swallow my own groan at the sight of it, giving my next command instead.

“Show me how you touch yourself.” The words are a hoarse whisper, my gaze fixed on his dick—long, thick, and smooth, jutting out from where he’s shoved down his jeans and boxers—looking like a goddamn snack.

The shaky breath Sol pulls in vibrates beneath my palm, and as he takes himself in his hand, pulling in firm, twisting strokes, I bite down on my lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Sol’s breathing is little more than pants and I force my gaze away from his dick to find his eyes open, his hooded gaze fixed on me. It’s a sight I won’t soon forget; his pink lips parted, his head leaning back against the locker, and his pupils blown.

“Good boy,” I murmur, watching in fascination as a small shudder runs over him and he seems to relax further, the speed of his strokes increasing. My lips almost brush his ear as I ask, “Do you think of me when you do this?”

Sol’s breath hitches as he answers with a strangled, “Yes.”

“Stop touching yourself.”

He does; a small whimper of protest falling from his lips as he presses them together, his tongue darting between to wet them. I’m obsessed with how turned on he is—with how he follows my commands without hesitation, his chest is heaving like he’s just run a marathon. Tearing my gaze away from his perfect face, I look back down at his cock, the tip glistening with precum. My tongue swipes over my lips and Sol’s throat vibrates with a hum beneath my fingers.

My resolve snaps and I release my grip, sinking to my knees. With one hand, I shove his sweatshirt up out of the way, while the other tugs his jeans and underwear down a little further to give me better access. This time, I don’t hold back my groan as his cock twitches before me, eager for what’s to come. My gaze lifts, watching Sol’s awestruck expression carefully as I stick out my tongue and lick him slowly from root to tip.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

I smirk and take him into my mouth, sucking and teasing the tip before easing him to the back of my throat. Sol’s head falls back against the locker with a long, deep groan that has my own dick straining against the polyester trapping it firmly in place. His hands help to lift his sweatshirt out of my way, his knuckles pale as they grip the thick, green material like he’s holding on for dear life.

Sol’s cock is big enough that I have to relax my jaw, my eyes watering as he nudges the back of my throat. It’s worth it though, because the gasp and subsequent whimpers as my cheeks hollow, swallowing around him, will be seared into my memory for life. Looking up at him through damp lashes, I find him watching me, his expression a mix of pure bliss and awe.

As much as I’d like to draw this out, there’s every chance someone is going to walk in, and quite frankly, fuck that. So, I grip the base of his dick, my mouth working in tandem with my fist as I work him relentlessly. A loud bang has my eyes darting upwards to find Sol’s head tipped back against the lockers, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,” he chants. “I’m close.”

I don’t respond, instead working him harder with my tongue, lips and a little teeth, until he gasps, stiffening with a slew of curses as he empties down my throat. I moan around him, transfixed by the look of bliss on Sol’s face as I lick him clean.

When I pull away, he trembles, the sound of his labored breathing filling the locker room. My own heart is thundering, but I school my features into neutrality as I stand up and wipe my face with my towel before looking at him again.

He’s breathtaking. His skin flushed, his eyes glazed, as he looks at me like I just handed him the moon and all the stars in the sky. I shouldn’t have done that. I was supposed to walk away, not put his dick in my mouth. But Sol said he wanted no strings, and now’s the time to make my next move in this game of chicken.

Sol’s mouth opens but he doesn’t speak, and I nod. “I’m going to get a shower. You can see yourself out, right?”

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to not look back as I head to the shower block. A small part of me hopes he’ll follow, but I know he won’t. The reality is, he’s likely looking much like he did when I left him at the party, and I don’t want to see that face again. If I do, I’ll feel like an asshole. And I’m not. I’m just realistic. And the fact that there’s no point pursuing whatever this is between us, is very real.

Knowing I’m doing the right thing is a feeling I’m used to. A feeling I like. A lot. So, as I turn on the water and step under the tepid spray, I’m not sure why it feels like I just made a mistake.

SOL

Even though it was hands down the best head I’ve ever received in my life, I haven’t texted Wes. I haven’t been to see him. The worst part is, I don’t know why. I went into the locker room to let him know that I didn’t want things to be purely business between us, but never in a million years did I think it would end with Wes on his knees. My body heats at the memory; the feel of his fingers on my neck, his tongue teasing the underside of my cock, the way he moaned as I came . . .

Wincing, I knock back the shot and slam the glass down on the bar. “What the fuck was in that?”

Zak grins, his arms slung around mine and Alex’s shoulders. “Does it matter?”

I grunt, but Alex chuckles beside me. He’s a different man than the one who passed out face down on the stairs just a few weeks ago. I’ve known him almost three and a half years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. I suppose that’s what love does to you.

“Turn that frown upside down,” Zak says squeezing my arm. “No sad faces allowed on Rainer’s birthday extravaganza!”

Alex grins and shakes his head. His actual birthday is the twenty-eighth of December, still almost two weeks from now, but we’ll all be spread across the country by then. The thought twists my gut like it always does, reminding me that nights like this are numbered.

“Damn,” Zak mutters, shoving another shot my way. “What’s with you tonight?”

I shake my head, taking the shot and throwing it back. “Nothing. Sorry.”

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