Page 57 of Unspoken Rules

It’s broad daylight. I don’t give a fuck about his neighbors, but what if Chris comes outside? What if he finds us? I glance toward the side of the house where the door is, and back at Cole.

Fuck it.

Just be confident, Bryson. You suck dick well. You’ve never had a complaint. Just relax and put his dick in your mouth.

I kneel onto the chaise lounge. Cole spreads his legs for me to fit. I tug open his jeans more, and pull down his underwear, allowing his thick cock to spring free.

Holy fuck.

It’s more beautiful than I remember.

It jerks as I stare at it, a small bead of pre-cum resting at the tip. I lean down to lick it up, the tip of my tongue dragging through the slit of his dick. Cole hisses, his cock bouncing.

I wrap my hand around him and stroke slowly as I suck the tip into my mouth, another bit of pre-cum exploding on my tongue. I missed the taste of him. Missed the way I feel when I’m teasing him. Fuck, I’ve missed this. I open my mouth wide and slide him down my throat until I can’t anymore, sucking as I pull him out.

He groans low, thrusting his hips up, wanting to go deeper.

“Fuck, that feels so damn good.” He sighs, resting his head back, his hand finding the back of my head. He guides me along his dick, slowing and quickening my movements as he wants. I allow him to take control and guide me how he wants. It’s his cock. He knows what he likes. I want to please him.

Use me as you see fit, Mr. Harper.

“I’ve missed your mouth, Bryson.”

Oh fuck. He has?

Cole’s breathing gets heavier.

“You going to let me come in your mouth like a good boy?”

Holy fucking shit, my dick is leaking.

I hum an “mhmm” and he groans longer and louder, thrusting his hips up.

“Swallow every last drop, Bryson. Take it all,” he growls.

He shoves my head down so hard my throat burns, and I can’t breathe. My dick throbs and I swear I’m going to come in my pants. Cole’s dick pulses in the back of my throat, his hot cum shooting down. I swallow and swallow and swallow.

When there’s no more, I release him with a pop, taking every last bit, and sit back on my knees to catch my breath. I drag my finger along my bottom lip to wipe up the drool and freeze when Cole and I lock eyes.

Did I really just fucking do that?

Panic shoots up my spine.

Why do I keep fucking everything up?

Why is it so hard to make one right decision?

I get off the chair and turn to run, the same way I did last night. Holy shit, apparently I can’t do this sober because the way I feel right now? It’s awful. Absolutely awful. I just sucked off my best friend’s father in their house. In their house. But Cole’s arm is around my waist and he’s whirling me toward him, tugging me to his chest.

“Don’t run from me, Bryson,” he whispers, holding me tight. “Please. Don’t run from me.”

My heart is thundering. I swear it’s going to burst from my chest and jump into his so he doesn’t feel so damn lonely. Because that’s what he is right now. He’s lonely and hurt. And I get it. I hate it for him. I’ve been there so many times and it sucks.

He holds me tighter, and my body relaxes. I don’t even have to try, it just relaxes in his arms.

This is awkward… right? This should be awkward.

But it’s not. It’s fucking perfect.

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