Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
When Ryan saw what it was, his mouth went dry. “Jamie—”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Jamie said quickly, straddling Ryan’s lap and rolling the condom on Ryan’s cock. “It won’t mean anything. A hole is a hole, right? But it will be faster.” He flushed, his pupils huge. “I always come faster with something in me,” he said, pulling out a lube packet from his pocket and coating his fingers with a generous amount of the liquid. The distant part of Ryan’s brain wondered why the fuck Jamie even had condoms and lube with him—had he planned to fuck Lambert again?—but mostly his brain refused to form any coherent thought.
He sat still, tense and stiff in more ways than one, watching Jamie reach behind and quickly prep himself. This couldn’t be happening.
He should stop Jamie. Except his mind seemed unable to fully grasp what was about to happen, stuck on the idea of fucking Jamie. A mix of conflicting emotions and thoughts clashed inside him, ranging from the sense of utter wrongness to overwhelming want.
Before he could decide what the fuck to do, he had a lapful of his very naked best friend who was positioning himself over his cock. The next thing he knew Jamie was slowly sinking onto him and Ryan hissed as incredible tightness enveloped his throbbing erection. Shit.
Jamie took him in to the hilt and stopped, wide-eyed and flushed. They stared at each other, breathing hard.
Fuck.
His cock was inside Jamie. This wasn’t bloody happening. Except it was.
Jamie opened his mouth, as if to say something, but not a single sound left his mouth. He was biting his lip, looking at Ryan dazedly. And then he started moving—and Jesus fucking Christ. Ryan gritted his teeth, trying not to make any sound and remain completely still. A part of him still couldn’t believe this was real.
He watched Jamie ride his cock, the feeling of utter disbelief warring with the pleasure of having Jamie, being inside him in the deepest possible way. But if putting his dick in Jamie’s mouth felt like blasphemy, it was nothing compared to the way this felt. He had his cock in the person he always considered a little brother—someone to protect and care for, not someone to fuck in the ass.
But there was nothing remotely brotherly about the way Jamie looked as he rode his cock, panting, his swollen, pink lips slack and eyes unfocused with bliss. It was impossible to look away from him.
Ryan wasn’t sure he was even participating. Jamie was the one doing all the work. Jamie pleasured himself on him in an aggressive rhythm, faster and faster, striking a blaze of heat that made Ryan sweat beneath his clothes and his balls ache with the urge to come. A bead of sweat trickled down Ryan’s forehead and the back of his neck. Gritting his teeth, Ryan tried to think, but it was hellishly hard at the pace Jamie set. He was losing control, fast.
“Jamie—” he grunted through his teeth.
Jamie was beyond hearing, fucking himself hard on Ryan’s aching cock, his moans getting louder and louder. He was mumbling something like OhGod, ohGod, ohGod, nearly sobbing. He looked absolutely wanton. Like a slut. Like a whore for his cock. It drove Ryan insane, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer and a scalding orgasm tore from him as he shuddered and groaned. Grabbing his own erection, Jamie slammed down one more time on Ryan’s softening cock and came with a long, hoarse moan.
For a brief blissful moment, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing.
Then the doorbell rang.
Ryan opened his eyes and stared at Jamie.
Panting, Jamie stared back.
The doorbell rang again.
They sprang apart and Jamie scrambled to get clothed. Ryan was mostly dressed, but his shirt was ruined. Tucking his cock in his jeans, Ryan made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door and sagged against it, his mind reeling as he stared at the mirror on the opposite wall.
Fuck.
By the time he changed into a clean shirt and returned to the living room, it was empty, Jamie and Luke gone.
Ryan walked to the window and looked out. The street was well illuminated by Christmas street lights and decorations. Luke and Jamie were arguing about something by Luke’s car—or rather, Luke was gesticulating widely and shaking his head while Jamie stood in silence, his arms crossed over his chest.
As if feeling Ryan’s gaze, Jamie looked up. Their gazes locked.
Jamie turned away.
Chapter 18
From: Luke Whitford
To: James Grayson
Dec 28
Are you still not talking to him?
From: James Grayson
To: Luke Whitford
Dec 28
He’s the one not talking to me. He hasn’t called me once since that night. Not that I blame him.
From: Luke Whitford
To: James Grayson
Dec 28
That’s your guilt talking. And you have nothing to feel guilty about. Last time I checked, it takes two people. Ryan is hardly a helpless victim. He could have said no. He could have punched you and shoved you away any moment. No once forced him to put his prick in you.