Page 83 of The Influencer

“I see. It’s gonna be loud is what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, Asher, honestly, I just don’t want you disappearing again.”

“It’s not like I’m hard to find,” he argues.

“You know what I mean.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You gotta pay the bills, right?”

I sag with relief, which tells me I’d been strung as tight as a bow string. I swear the man is superhuman. A miracle of a person. I wish he didn’t have to be, but he is, and here I am, about to go suck someone else’s dick.

24

asher

Long story short—I don’t get my headphones in fast enough. When I come out of the shower, the festivities across the hall have already begun, and Gage is not a quiet lover.

The first slap of skin—and I mean someone slapped someone’s ass kind of slap—has me rushing to connect the Bluetooth with a towel still wrapped around my waist. A high-pitched groan carries—Jade’s—just before my earbuds connect, and catty reality TV chatter drowns him out.

Thank God. I crash on the bed and shove the earbuds in as far as they can go, turning up the sound on the television loud enough to damage my eardrums. Worth it, though. So fucking worth it.

I don’t judge Jade. I can’t. Everyone has a skill set they’re hopefully lucky enough to tap into at some point in their life. Jade’s is being on camera—naked. He has presence. He has a healthy sexual appetite and a talent for using his body in sensual ways. So he’s monetized it. Good for him.

And I am not laboring under some delusion that he and I have anything special. Granted, our chemistry is good. At least, I think it’s good, and he doesn’t seem to mind having me around, especially if my presence in the guest room is any indication. But we’re not an “item.” He’s a gay influencer and a sex worker, and to be good at those things, he needs to be single.

I like the guy, and fuck knows I’m incredibly attracted to him, but I understand the boundaries here. I’m more than happy to take what I can get, and I’m grateful, too, for the place to crash for the night, no matter what’s going on across the hall.

I do a decent job not thinking about it for a while. The TV show is hooky, and I’m drawn in to the drama playing out between the singles at the island resort, vying for attention from members of the opposite sex. It doesn’t escape my attention either that I’m checking out the men more than the women, which is a flip of sorts for me.

I can feel myself beginning to lean a certain way once this breakup issue with Liv is all cleared up. I want to date men for a change. I’m not going to say Liv’s burned me out on women forever—it’s not fair to women to assume they’ll all be as difficult and controlling as she is, but let’s just say my appetites have evolved. And frankly, I’m fucking starving.

So hungry, in fact, that I do something questionable. I take out my earbuds.

The sounds across the hall are quieter, but still audible. Moaning mostly. But the image that blooms in my mind is as good as online porn starring my favorite fuckboy. I open the towel and stroke my semi until it’s full and throbbing. After several minutes of jerking off to their sounds and my own filthy thoughts, the three of us come simultaneously—their choked groans noisy enough to disguise my own.

My release is fucking explosive. Cum hits my beard, and I keep tugging myself until I’ve wrung out every drop of perverted pleasure.

Finally, I let go of my dick, and my arms go limp as I sink into the mattress. I fall into a post-orgasmic haze where I lose track of time, but when I hear the door latch turn, I rush to re-tuck my towel around my waist before quickly attempting to rub the wet remains of my cum into my skin.

Jade slips through the door, looking sheepish. “You’re still here.” He notes the towel and bites his lower lip.

“All clear?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

His hair is wet, and he’s wearing a Gideon York tour t-shirt, joggers, and thick socks—suspiciously covered up, which makes me wonder if Gage left some marks. If he did, and I cannot explain this, I want to see them.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

“Um… Fine?”

I endeavor to smile. It’s half-assed, but hey, I tried.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

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