Page 58 of Unspoken Rules

Cole is the only person who has ever made me feel safe and accepted. It’s no surprise it would be the same now.

“Cole,” I whisper back, not sure where I’m going with this. I don’t want him to let me go, but I know we shouldn’t be doing this.

He doesn’t respond, so I let it go. I stay here with him, letting him hold me, and breathe in his scent. Because it’s what he needs right now. He’s always been there for me, so this is the least I can do for him. Besides, being in his arms isn’t the worst place to be.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours.

Hours.

Every time I glance at the clock, another hour has passed. It’ll be light soon. Why can’t I sleep?

Too much adrenaline. My head is spinning.

What the hell did I do?

I’ve fantasized about Cole for years. Always looked up to him. Imagined what it would be like for someone like him to want someone like me. I’d thought what it would be like to taste his dick, to bend over for him and allow him inside me. To be on the end of his lustful gaze. Then I got it in Astoria, but it never seemed real. Which was the point. He was a businessman in a fancy suit. I was new to town. We were in a hotel. That was the thing. He even said it. It wasn’t supposed to feel real.

And maybe that’s why I so freely thought of it and enjoyed it. Or maybe it was the alcohol that made everything seem better.

Because even though sucking his dick, hearing him call me a good boy, praising me, and holding me made me feel amazing, I now feel like the lowest human being on earth.

What kind of person does this to their friend?

Chris is my best friend. Regardless of what he and his father are going through, why am I running to Cole instead of Chris? Texting Cole isn’t what I should have done. I should have gone to Chris.

Now, it’s three in the morning, and I’m lying here, unable to sleep because of this.

There are a hundred things I don’t know, and nothing I can do about it right now.

I roll over and force my eyes shut. I need to go to sleep.

My phone buzzes, and I make the mistake of opening my eyes to glance at it. From here, I see I’ve received a text.

Who the hell would text me at three am? I assume it’s Daniel but click to check it anyway.

Cole: Round two?

Fucking hell…

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling again, the text burned into my brain. My cock is already aching, so fucking hard from not getting relief earlier, but I refused to take care of it. It’s throbbing, pulling from my rational thoughts and not allowing me to think clearly. I know that. But I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to jerk off thinking about Cole, which is why I’ve been trying to ignore it. But now that he’s offering? Christ.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting with myself over this. Over betraying my friend and doing something to make myself feel good. Something I’ve never had in my life. It’s hard to let it go when it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just to feel good.

Is there any chance Chris would understand? That he would be okay with this, as long as he knew it made me happy? I can’t put myself in his shoes because I hate my father. So yeah, I’d hate him for doing this. But that’s because my father is a piece of shit human being.

Cole deserves someone to take care of him, to be there for him. I could give him that.

Wouldn’t Chris want us both to be happy, even if it meant us together? And I don’t mean in a relationship, because that’s seriously pushing it. But even just to mess around? Something for fun?

I huff out a sigh, knowing I’m already going to hell for this shit, so I may as well go out with a bang. As long as Chris doesn’t find out, this won’t be a problem. I can have something good for myself, even if it’s for a short amount of time. It can’t hurt Chris if he doesn’t know. All that matters is not hurting him. So, I have to make sure he doesn’t find out.

Way to make that work in your favor, Bryson.

I throw the blankets off me, but instead of going to Cole, I snap a picture of my hard dick and send it to him.

He’s so quiet, I don’t hear his feet on the floor. The only thing letting me know he’s here is the door opening. He closes it gently, walks to the side of the bed, and stares down at me. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, his dick at half-mast. I can tell he doesn’t have anything underneath them. I lick my lips as I look up at him, taking in the ridges in his abs and the cuts in his arms.

Fuck, Cole Harper is a masterpiece.

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