Page 44 of Provoking the Punter

“I knew that… and I do… God… I’m not sex-illiterate or something.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

Chester pulled Garrett’s hand away and kissed him. He was never going to stop being cute, even when he knew what he was doing. That’s when Chester realized he was in trouble… and he didn’t care because he was having fun, and maybe he’d forgotten what that was like because the last year had been so difficult. “So,” he drawled, “do you know what to do with the lube?”

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Sure, Garrett knew what to do with lube, but it hadn’t mattered for such a long time that he worried about doing it wrong. There was usually no kissing—or very little—and that was his preference because he didn’t want it to mean anything.

With Chester, everything meant something, even if he wasn’t sure what.

It was the way Chester looked at him. The way he called him honey, and he was quite happy to pretend it was just for him. He didn’t want to know if that’s what he called everyone. Then there was the way he touched him and held him as if he gave a damn.

The present he’d delivered because he wanted to give him something.

He wanted this to be something, but he didn’t want to be the one asking. Nor did he want to be the one dragging Chester back into the closet. But if he was out…

His fingers slid over Chester’s hole. Chester kept distracting him with kisses. He wasn’t usually the one lying on the bed; he couldn’t see what he was doing. “Is this okay?”

“You’re going super slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It had been years, but Garrett hadn’t forgotten how uncomfortable he’d been when he’d agreed to bottom. It probably would’ve been better with someone who had experience.

“You won’t.”

He pressed one finger in, watching Chester’s face and the way his lips parted. Should he add a second finger? Or would that be too much too soon? He had big hands and thick fingers, and his dick was no different. “I’ve been told it’s too fat.”

Chester laughed. “People like different things. I would much rather have a thick six inches than a skinny nine trying to rearrange my guts.”

“So you’re saying it’s perfect?”

“Is that what you want to hear?” He leaned closer and whispered in Garrett’s ear. “That I can’t wait to feel your thick cock stretching me?”

Garrett’s breath caught. “Are you teasing or being serious?”

He licked Garrett’s ear and nipped the lobe. “Both. Get some more lube and fuck me with two fingers.”

While he couldn’t see what he was doing, he did as he was told, feeling Chester stretch around him. He was so hot and tight, and he rocked his hips as if he wanted more. Garrett felt as though he was rummaging around trying to find Chester’s prostate because when he did in the past, everyone had more fun.

“You’re trying too hard.” Chester kissed him and shimmied backward, causing his fingers to slip free. He added lube to his palm and stroked Garrett’s cock, pausing with his hand fisted at the base. Then he extended his thumb. “My rule of thumb. If it sticks up past the tip, it’s going to be more hard work than fun.”

“When did you work that out?”

“When I was about twenty. The massive cock seemed like a good idea at the time—I had been drinking—but it was not. After that, I began paying attention to what I liked, not what was good enough, or what other people told me was good.”

“And I have your perfect cock?”

Chester rolled his eyes and picked up the condom. “I bet you have no idea what you like because every ass is the same.”

“They aren’t.”

Chester laughed. “I’m aware. I’ve topped more than you’ve bottomed.”

“You don’t know that.” Garrett sucked in a breath as Chester rolled the condom onto his cock, then added more lube.

“How many times?”

“Once… with my boyfriend.”

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