Page 18 of Angel

A smile blossoms on my face as warmth spreads through my chest. Rhys is such a thoughtful person.

Angel

I will. Thanks!

The smile stays with me through mowing the rest of the lawn and weeding the garden. Even after I’ve showered and had Sunday dinner with Mama and Sabrina and Jonah, my lips keep wanting to curl upward. It’s only once I’m ready for bed and settled under the sheets that the heat travels a little lower in my body.

I pull up that website again. The Camboy Network. I squint at the pictures of the guys on the page. They’re the same guys that Rhys was at brunch with today. So when he says “the boys”, he means the guys he films porn with?

My dick fills so fast my head spins a little.

So Rhys is friends with the people he works with. He hangs out with them even when they’re not working. What’s the big deal? Unless it was some kind of business meeting? Were they talking about the videos they want to make in the future? Did Rhys mention my questions about a straight guy doing gay porn?

“Ow,” I mutter, as I press the heel of my hand against my dick. It’s so hard it hurts. Jeez, am I getting turned on by the idea of a business meeting? What the heck is wrong with me?

Except, it’s not the business meeting, is it? It’s the prospect of Rhys telling his gay-porn friends about me. About how interested I was that day when he explained what gay for pay is. About how they should invite me to shoot a video with them.

I fumble for the bottle of lube I picked up the day after the party. It’s already half empty.

I stick my lube-slick hand into my boxers, then hiss as I wrap my fingers around my dick.

“He’s straight?” one of Rhys’s friends asks.

“Yeah, but Angel’s totally cool,” Rhys says. “You guys’ll love him.”

“But he has no experience.”

“I’ll show him the ropes,” Rhys offers. “We’ll do a couple practice sessions before going in front of the camera.”

The scene changes.

Rhys is on his knees in front of me. My jeans are halfway down my thighs. His fingers, tipped in bright blue, are wrapped around the base of my dick. His lips, glistening and cherry red, are stretched thin as he sucks the head. His lashes flutter, his cheeks hollow, and he moans. Then he flicks his gaze up to mine. Framed in dark makeup, the browns of his eyes are deep pools that drag me down into their depths. I’m drowning. I can’t breathe.

The orgasm hits me hard and fast, racing through me and leaving me feeling a little drunk. I lie there for a moment as I catch my breath, the image of Rhys on his knees melting away. Then I force myself to get up and clean the cum off before it dries on my belly.

When I get back to bed, the screen on my phone is on and there’s a message from Rhys. My ears go hot, even though there’s no one here to witness my embarrassment. There’s no way he could know I was just jerking off. And definitely no way he’d know I was fantasizing about him. Rhys can’t read minds. Mind reading isn’t a thing!

With my heart pounding in my chest, I cautiously pick up my phone and read the message.

Rhys

How did the garden turn out? *flower emoji*

My bed squeaks in protest when I collapse onto it. He’s asking about the garden. Because I told him I was gardening, dummy. But he remembered and he cares enough to ask. My tummy flip-flops at the thought.

Angel

It’s a vegetable garden. *tomato emoji* *cucumber emoji* *carrot emoji* *eggplant emoji*

Rhys

*hand over laughing face emoji* No peaches?

No, peaches come from trees. I’d love to have a peach tree in the backyard though.

*laughing emoji* That would be pretty cool.

I get more comfortable on the bed, turning onto my side and grabbing a pillow to hug against my chest.

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